Of Daggers and Roses
by Wayfarer Fox
Summary: Follow the investigation of a drug distribution ring and the effects of organized crime in the day to day mechanics of the most vulnerable part of Zootopia: Happytown. This is a followup to "A Countryside Murder Tale" and is OC heavy. Revision/editing credits: Karteufel, the great potato from IRC!
1. Who hustle the hustlers?

The blue sky started to turn orange as the sun began to set. _He is late, again_ _._ Thought Finnick. By this time, the only mammals in the park were runners and loners, and neither were after pawpsicles.

He sighed. He knew some of the runners by now, Nick would do this from time to time. There was always the "sweat pants zebra", he would get in the park around 5PM. There was also a family of rabbits that came there to jog, quite a sight to see all that ears bopping around, they would come every odd wednesday around 6PM. Then there was that old and lonesome badger, he would just sit by the pound and look at the fish swimming. He used to leave around 7PM.

The red fur caught his attention, he could almost listen to his smugness over that smile. His white shirt didn't go well with his aviators, and why the hell was he carrying that enormous paper bag?

"Sorry Big Guy, Carrots asked me to grab some groceries before getting home. How are you today?" Nick leaned on the Finnick's cart, he placed his groceries on the ground and with a discreet kick, pushed it close to Finnick.

Finnick sighed. "What gonna be today Wilde?"

"Oh, you know what I like, a blueberry one."

Finnick nodded. While with one hand he reached for a pawpsicle inside the cart, with the other he dropped a small brown envelope from his pocket inside the groceries bag. He handed over the pawpsicle to Nick. "Same price as always Wilde."

"Is that a way to treat an old friend? You're busting my balls over here!" Nick handed him a folded five dollars note.

Finnick picked the note with his left hand and slipped one of his fingers inside the fold, stealthily pulling a strip of paper and pocketing it. He reached for his coin holder but was stopped by Nick.

"Keep the change buddy, gotta keep the dream alive."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. How is Judy anyway? Heard she got into an accident of some sort." Finnick threw his parlor hat inside his small drawer, work was done for the day.

"Ah, she is all right. She has to stay home for a few more weeks still and I can take care of her in the meantime." His smile seemed a bit more fake now, Finnick noticed. "Well Fin, always a pleasure coming by, see you around!"

"See you Nick."

Nick picked up his groceries and walked back the way he came. Finnick waited for his friend to vanish in the streets to start pulling his ice cream cart. The small cart was almost empty by now, but still heavy; he would have to drag it five blocks until he could store it in his landlords garage.

He walked among the crowd, each and everyone going back to their respective homes, each and everyone unaware of one another and shuffling uncomfortably in the same direction. Some would diverge and pick the bus or the subway, some would get in their cars and become amorphous streams of light passing in the night, but not Finnick.

Animals big and small, from all corners of the world gathered there in Savanna Central. Towering builds, the greatest achievements of architecture mammal kind was ever capable of were there to his left and right. Prey and predators gathering in the same place, working together in harmony. _Except when they didn't_ _._ Thought Finnick. He crossed the street, away from the crowd and took a left turn. As though a secret word was whispered, the big buildings gave away to smaller and smaller business, smaller and smaller apartment complexes. The bustling crowd would not go in there, the noise from the street traffic became just that, noise.

He could hear a small river stream that crossed under the streets there, he remembered when he was a cub and the river would overflow in the rain season. The dirt that came all the way from the then under construction Rain Forest District would stain the walls and those who had lower houses or no flood barriers would have a week of hell ahead of them.

He felt a slight nudge in his cart. He glanced back to see a red and white tail and a pair of brown rounded ears over its edge. He rolled his eyes and stopped.

A muffled chuckle sounded.

"Shut up! He'll hear us!" A voice whispered.

"Kids, I'm half ears. What've I told you already?"

A young red fox cub head popped up, his big yellow eyes showed a mix of fear and enjoyment. "You told us that we could always get pawpsicles at the end of the day!" The small head hid back behind the cart.

A second, bigger, head of a hyena cub emerged. Her dark brown eyes stood at the edge of the cart, smiling at him. "And that you can hear everything!" She also tried to hide back behind the cart, but once again her ears were too tall for that.

He tried to, but could not smile.

"Ok, you two. Out! Out! Out! How many times have I told you both that you had to ask for it?"

"Sowy Uncle Finn…" She let go of the cart and walked up to Finnick, shyly holding the edge of her pink dress. "Can I please have a pawpsicle?"

"Very well Sabrine, it's Strawberry Yogurt right?" Finnick opened the lid of the cart and reached inside it, he had safely stored their pawpsicles as to not mix them with the ones for clients.

"You're no fun Sab!" The young fox walked to the side of her friend and rolled his eyes. "Can I have my pawpsicle?"

Finnick handed Sabrine's pawpsicle and looked down at him. "Are you asking or demanding it Jack? Where are your manners?"

"Can I pleeeeeeeease have my pawpsicle Uncle Fiiiiiiiin?"

Finnick smile widened. "Now you are learning. Here you go, Mango." He handed the yellow pawpsicle to the cub.

Both their eyes shined as they devoured their sweets. "Now what do you say to me?"

"Thaaaaanks Uncle Finn" Spoke loudly and together both of the cubs, their mouths slathered with juice, their smiles wide and full of sharp teeth.

"Now go to your homes, it's getting late" Finnick resumed pulling the cart, it felt lighter now.

After two more blocks of pulling he arrived at his apartment complex garage. It wasn't fancy or clean, but his landlord agreed to keep a small freezer by his old elephant sized black sedan. _The damn cart is the size of its wheel._ He pulled open the garage door just enough for the cart to pass under it and walked in the dark garage. His eyes slowly got used to the dark, but he knew enough of the small place to don't bump into anything.

Finnick stored what ice cream was left of the day into the freezer and got to cleaning the cart. He had to clean out all of the water and the remaining ice. And then he had to disinfect the whole thing or a certain cop might nag him to death. _Meh, hope Judy is really ok._

After everything was sorted out, he could finally rest. He locked the garage and walked to the small alley to the side of it. The lights of the street barely reached it, but he could still see a glimpse of the pitch black stains running down the walls.

A closed window would pop here and there from either sides, all barred with steel from the outside, both protecting and locking its inhabitants. Not that there was a lot to look at, the walls were 1 meter apart.

As he went along the alley the path forked to a dead end. From there he heard a low growl followed by the red light of a pipe. Finnick stopped and picked up his phone, turning his light on. Two young coyotes were illuminated, their eyes shining yellow against the light.

"Yo gramps, turn that off!" The first coyote shouted, covering his eyes.

"The hell man!" The second coyote blinked blindly, dropping his pipe with a kling. Gray powder spilled from it to the ground, the embers quickly losing their light.

"What do you think you are doing? Does your mother know you are doing this shit now?" Finnick lowered his light. He picked the pipe and smelled, it recalled him of nutmeg mixed with ammonium. "What the hell is this?"

"Oh, it's you Finnick. The hell do you want?" The first coyote asked.

"Man… my head hurts… I can't see…" The second coyote lamented, holding his head.

"Marco, I asked you a question. What the hell is this shit you are smoking?" Finnick threw the pipe against the wall, smashing it in a cloud of powder and small shards of glass.

"What the hell?! You little bastard!" Marco lunged at Finnick, his claws out.

Finnick dropped his phone, lifting his guard up. He quickly sidestepped out of the maddened coyotes reach and launched a jab to his kidneys. Marco fell to the ground, curling in pain, face to the ground.

Finnick pushed him with his foot to a seating position. He pulled his head close to him by his whiskers. "I'll ask you again. What the hell is that drug?"

"It's called fazu! Don't hurt me! Please!" Marco tried to push Finnick away, but he tightened the grasp on his whiskers.

"Who sold it to you?"

"Some ocelot called Gabor, by the docks! Let me go!" Shouted the scared coyote.

Finnick released him, Marco rubbed his whiskers. "What is your problem man? We are just trying to get our buzz in peace!"

"Shut up, you dumb fuck. What do you think Rosa will do when she finds out?"

Marco's eyes widened in fear. "Please, don't tell mama! She will kill us!"

Antonio gave loud snarl towards them both, his whole face contracted in an expression of anger and pain. Finnick and Marco jumped away from him, as the other coyote went on all fours and took a step toward them, baring his teeth.

As sudden as he snarled, he threw up towards the ground, collapsing over his pool of bile. His body stood still, only his slow rhythmic breath being heard and the acidic sickening smell filling the air. Finnick picked up his phone and walked towards the senseless coyote to check his pulse. He seemed fine.

"Take Antonio home and quit that shit. Get a whiskey next time, at least you know what you are killing yourself with." Finnick turned off his light, engulfing the alley in darkness once again. In the darkness he saw Marco's eyes swing up and down, in a nod.

 _Freaking wednesdays._ Thought Finnick. He walked out of the forked alley and went back his way home. A little more walking and he got up to the tall door to his apartment complex. With a jump he got to the door handle and, holding himself up, he shoved his key in, twisting it open.

He jumped inside the complex, locking the door behind him. The old wooden planks creaked even under his light weight as he climbed up the stairs towards his apartment. He repeated the routine on the big door to the apartment where he lived and got in.

The world inside was adapted to his size, making him more at ease. He loosened his white apron and went for his fridge. The almost bare fridge had a beer and some margarine, the beer would have to do as dinner.

Finnick got onto his sofa and turned on the TV, but soon enough the sounds were just a buzz in his head. He sipped from the cold beer bottle, lost in thoughts. The images became a blur and, sip after sip, his conscience returned into the alley. He was like one of those kids once, he remembered.

The bottle was empty, but not his resolve. He changed into his old black shirt and brown pants, he had not worn those for many years now. He reached into the back of his wardrobe and the old dusty wooden handle met his paw. Finnick dusted the old baseball bat and as the smoothness of the wood came back to it any doubts vanished from his mind.

He had a meeting at the docks.


	2. Family meeting

She sighed. Her salmon shirt now sported a big spot of coffee on her belly. Danielle tried to press napkins against, but it was of no use.

"Oh! Do we need to pick a baby bib too Howell?" Clawson grinned at her. He put his shopping basket at the counter beside her cup. "Do we need anything else?"

 _Energy drinks, check; Some biscuits, check; Bottles of water, check; Crosswords?_ Danielle reached inside the basket and pulled the small crosswords magazine. "Clawson, really?"

"Look Howell, we will have to spend the whole freaking night doing absolutely nothing. And you aren't a very cheerful talkative gal, are you?"

Danielle rolled her eyes. "We should be one hundred percent focused, you know?"

They headed for the checkout and paid for their groceries. Danielle took the small plastic bag and thanked the cashier.

"Remember the stakeout we did on that armadillo?" Clawson went around the patrol car and got in the driver's seat.

Danielle got into the passenger seat. "Yeah, two months ago. Counterfeiter. Was supplying false coins to the underground, right?"

"Exactly." Clawson turned on the car and checked the mirrors. "Do you remember how long we had to wait until he attempted to deliver that case of coins?"

"Twelve hours?" She stored the bottles and the cans inside the glove compartment. She picked the crosswords magazine and threw it on Clawson's lap.

"Twelve freaking hours." Clawson started to drive, but 5 meters and the car was already stopped in the heavy traffic. "Oh, you gotta be kidding me… why are we on the streets this hour of the day?"

"Hot damn, you are cranky today." Danielle picked the case file and opened it. "Gabor Garras, 30 years old ocelot, arrested four times for possession of both drugs and a stun gun. He's been trafficking in the docs for at least six months and the IB thinks that they figured his routine of resupplying."

"So. We are going to do IB's job?" Clawson tapped his fingers on the driving wheel as the car nudged slowly forward.

"We are going to investigate a criminal to try and locate his supplier. Yes." Howell closed the file and placed it in her lap. "And oh! We have to get back to the precinct to get my car."

Clawson looked at her puzzled and then to the front of the car. "Ah… we are in our patrol. Right." He flipped the left turn light on with his fingers. "So… that means you are driving for tonight?"

"Of course, it's my car." Howell stretched on her seat.

Once out of the heavy traffic the ride was much smoother towards precinct one. Once there they grabbed their groceries and dropped the patrol keys at the armory. They headed into the garage and it's lines of cars.

"So, where is it? Is it a wagon or something boring?" Clawson glanced at Howell, looking for a reaction.

She coyly smiled. "Nope, not boring" She picked up her key chains remote control and pressed unlock. The lights of a black opaque sedan flashed. Howell skipped towards the driver's door.

Clawson raised an eyebrow. "Lobos Interceptor. Really? Aren't we compensating for something here?" Clawson headed to the passenger's seat, his partner occulted by the black mirror like glasses.

Howell unlocked his door in the panel, once he opened the door he stopped for a second, marveling at the white of the inside.

"Is this shark leather?" Clawson passed his hands in the car panel, feeling the roughness of the white material.

"Yeah." Unceremoniously Danielle turned on the car, switched gears and started to drive.

"Why don't we go out after work again?" Clawson reached for the seat belt and locked it.

"You are way too talky." She stopped and waited for the garage doors to open. Once they were open just enough for the car to pass, she drove out, fast and precisely.

Clawson opened the glove compartment and started to store the cans there, Howell let go of the gear stick and signaled "no" with her index finger.

"Ok, car rules. First rule, the glove compartment is not for anything that spills, there's a fridge in the center console. Second rule, don't spill anything. If you do, you will clean it with your tongue. Third rule, if you scratch any bit of leather I'll bite your head off. Are we clear?" Danielle's expression was grave, waiting for a response.

"Wow, ok mom." Clawson sighed. "So we are not going to eat anything in here the whole time?"

"Not inside the car."

"Howell… I'm yellow. If I get outside the car there isn't a chance that no one will see me." Clawson pointed at his fur. "Not everyone is bland gray like you."

"Too bad, so sad." She stopped the car and got out, the sky was starting to turn orange by now. Danielle opened the door for Clawson. "Come, I'm paying dinner tonight."

"What?" Clawson looked out of the car, a simple dinner flashed his neon lights. "Le Port Souris?

Is this a fancy place?"

"Oh no, don't worry. It's from a friend of my family. It's very cozy and has the best ratatouille in town." Danielle opened the restaurant's door for him. "Come in!"

"Any chance I can get shark in here?"

A set of rat faces looked toward Clawson, expressions of confusion and disbelief at his sight. At several small tables along the wall small forks were dropped and gasps were made. A small rat dressing a white chef's coat jumped of a bigger size counter and screamed "Danielle! Ma petite louve! How are you?" He ran and hugged her leg, pulling her down by her brown pants.

Danielle knelt and exchanged kisses with the small energetic rat, a happy smile on her face. "How are you Jacques? How is your family?"

"Oh Papillon, bigger than ever, happier than ever! And look what the wolf brought in, a jaguar! Is he your companion?" He covered his mouth in surprise. "Does Jochen knows about this? How is the old fleabag?" He started to walk back towards the counter, signaling them to follow.

A cloud passed by Danielle's expression. "Dad is… fine. And Clawson is my partner at the force."

"Oh this isn't right Danielle! Such a beautiful lady as you without a husband!" With two agile hops he was back up the counter. "That's not proper! No, no, no." He picked up a way too big menu for his size and handed it to Clawson. "Here Mr Cat, I know what Dany eats, what will you have?"

"Oh… do you have shark? Or any kind of fish?" Clawson reached for the menu but the rat threw it away laughing.

"Do we have any fish? Ho! You will have the best sardines of your life mon ami! Just wait a couple of minutes!" He hopped on the shoulder of a brown horse and pointed to a silver door. "To the kitchen! Avant!" The horse attendant rolled his eyes and walked into the kitchen.

Clawson turned to Danielle, an uncomfortable expression on his face. "He is… very intimate with you."

Danielle smiled, she seemed a whole different mammal. "Oh yes! Jacques has known me since I was a small pup. I even worked here as a teen!"

"You? Danielle Howell? Cooking?" Clawson slapped the counter. "I would pay to see that!"

"Oh, no! I was the cashier actually. No one dared to not pay their bills back then and they always gave fat tips." Danielle leaned over the counter and shouted towards the kitchen. "Hey Jacques! How are the tips nowadays?"

A shout came back from the kitchen. "Oh Danny! You know my clients! A bunch of rats I tell you!" A few moments passed and the horse came back out of the kitchen carrying two plates, Jacques at his shoulder.

"For the madam a ratatouille and for the gentleman a scabèche. Bon appetit." The horse made a small reverence after serving the plates. The rat jumped off his shoulder, onto the counter.

"Mes amis, have a fantastic meal. I have other customers to attend, but I'm just a howl away!" And off he went towards the tables.

"I've never saw you so…" Clawson started to pick at his plate with his fork.

"Talky?" Danielle forked chunks of her meal and started to chew, reveling at the thin slices of vegetables.

"Cheery." He bit a sardine in half and started to chew. "This is great!" He chewed some more and swallowed. "Why haven't we ever eaten here before?"

"Oh, this is a special place for special situations." She forked another chunk of food in her mouth. "Like having a grumpy partner worried that he'll not dinne."

'Oh, you!" Clawson smiled.

They finished dining and got back to Danielle's car. They drove in quiet content as the night fell. Danielle stopped in the street, facing a bar. The badly lit plaque read "Worlds' End".

Clawson took their camera and positioned it over the car's panel. "Our ocelot is supposed to operate here?"

"That is the intel we have, at least." Howell turned off the car and lit a cigarette. She glanced at Clawson and opened her window a bit, letting the smoke out. "Now we wait."

A small fennec fox hopped off a bus. Danielle wouldn't have paid attention to him, were not for the baseball bat he carried. _That's odd._ She thought.


	3. The Worlds' End

Finnick pushed open the door. A small ding sounded when he got in. A few heads turned toward the sound, but not many paid enough attention to look down and see the small fox.

He closed his eyes and paid attention to the clanking of glasses, the babbling of many mouths, a tap being opened and closed. _There it is._ He could hear the raspy high pitched voice of Gabor somewhere in the back of the bar.

He tightened his grasp on the bat. He walked along tall tables, tall stools and long legs. A bump here and there in the hoofs of a moose. A rhino snorted annoyedly towards him as he pushed his leg, trying to pass between tables.

Finnick finally stumbled upon a spotted yellow tail, angrily flitting left and right through the air... The ocelot wore a tight dark green jacket and red pants. He smiled. He could hear chips being played with on the table and three other males talking. He tapped the ocelots stool with his bat, a perverse grin on his mouth.

The ocelot jumped in his stool and turned without moving his hips, his white shirt contrasting with the old brown of the tables. "Oh Finn! Long time no…" He stopped talking when his stool lost balance, Finnick had a powerful swing. Gabor spun his body and fell on all fours, his tail now a bushy whip, his eyes wide and golden. The stool fell with a loud bump to the wooden floor, some tables around going silent from the small commotion. "WHAT THE…" Started to shout the startled ocelot, before Finnick shoved the bat inside his open mouth.

"What've I told you about dealing to Happytown?" Spoke Finnick, slowly. "What've I specifically told you about selling shit to kids?" Finnick pushed the bat against his mouth, the ocelot gagged.

Finnick heard the other mammals climbing down their stools. An almost silent teck sound caught his attention. _Maybe… I should've expected that…_ he thought. The ocelot signaled him to pull the bat out of his mouth with a bit desperate, a bit annoyed, expression. Finnick complied and took a step sideways, having a very angry beaver and a scared looking meerkat to his left and a confused ocelot trying to get up to his right. Finnick noticed that the meerkat held his left hand inside his jacket. _That's the one I'll have to bash first_ _._ He laid the bat loosely on his right shoulder, his grip trying to suffocate it.

"What has gotten into you? You know I only work the docks!" Gabor put the stool back up and leaned into it. "Just… what the fuck Finnick? You know I wouldn't cross you."

"Two boys were using your shit right next to my home, you piece of crap." Finnick reached for Gabor's neck collar but the ocelot dodged. "How do you explain that?"

"Finn, the hell do you think I sell? Freaking cookies? Do you think I give a recipe to every buyer?" Gabor jumped on his stool and grabbed a jug half-full of beer from the table. He took a slow gulp from it and relaxed himself on the stool, facing Finnick from upwards. "Now can you calm the fuck down and talk to me like a sane mammal?"

"I could say the same. It isn't even friday for you to be here causing all this ruckus Finnick." A long brown polecat approached from between the tables, a long and dirty white piece of cloth hanging around his neck. "Can I trust you boys to behave or do I have to call Reason to take you all out of my bar?"

Finnick knew that there was no use insisting, when Mike tells you to behave in his bar, you better do it. He leaned on his bat and nodded, his eyes giving away anger and remembering how tired he was.

"And give me that!" Mike seized the bat from his hands. "Coming into my bar with a freaking baseball bat! Have you no respect? You want to act savage you go outside and piss on a tree for all I care, but in here you behave. And Fred, the hell is that in your pocket?"

The meerkat quickly took his hand out of his pocket, his eyes wide open. He glanced at the beaver and the ocelot for help. "I-I-I... nothing! My wallet! That's all! We are all good and clean! W-w-w-we didn't take anything in!" He smiled a forced smile.

The beaver facepalmed. "God dammit Fred…"

The ocelot looked angrily at the meerkat "Why do we take you with us Fred? Why don't you just…" Gabor laid his head against the back of the stool. "Just give him the gun…"

"Ok, now I'm tired of this bullshit. You four, empty your pockets, right now." He turned his head back and shouted. "REASON! GET HERE RIGHT NOW!"

That name did wonders, the four mammals quickly started to pile their belongings on the ground: a stun gun, three wallets, some dollars, packs of white powder, a small wooden box, a pez dispenser, . When they were done, a giant black bear made his way through the tables. He wore a light blue shirt and simple jeans, his expression was calm and tranquil when he got to them.

Embroidered over his heart in golden handwritten letters a single word "Reason". From behind his leg a white polecat showed her face, her sharp white teeth forming a smile that almost blended with her fur, weren't for her small ruby eyes and blood red dress.

"The hell are you doing here Lucy? And Reason, care to explain to this old polecat this late in the night HOW THE HELL ALL THIS GOT IN?" Mike wiped his rag on the floor, making a loud snap.

"Sorry boss, I was helping your sister setting up her room. She had some heavy boxes to get up, you know?" The bear's deep tone ringed Finnick's ears, even his throat vibrated with each word.

"You know how it is Michael. I needed that huuuge." She took a step towards Mike. "Thiiick." She got up to his face, her snout almost touching his. "Powerful" She gave a gentle bite to his nose. "Pair of paws to carry my luggage."

Lucy laughed a sharp and sweet laugh. _This is the laugh that will take this place down in the right way for the wrong reasons._ Thought Finnick.

Mike rubbed his nose. "You are a curse on my life…" He glanced at the entertained perpetrators. "You four are not off the hook. And this is my sister, Lucienne Farraht, a good for nothing parasite that has to stay here because she was driving Mom and Pa insane."

"Oh Mikey, don't be a stick in the mud. I'm no gal to be kept in that dead swamp when my lovely big bro' lives in such a bustling and happy place with so many interesting faces! And now, aren't you going to introduce your friends? Are these the bad, the good, the ugly and the… dumb?" She pointed to the fennec fox, the ocelot, the beaver and the meerkat respectively. "And is this opium?" She picked up the small wooden box, a small serpent carved over it. "Oooooooh, it has been so long since I chased the dragon!"

Gabor gave an uncomfortable smile. "I… we can't… Mike, some help here, please? This is a bit of a gray area."

"Gray area my ass, you will not deal that crap inside my bar. You shouldn't bring that crap into my bar! BUT MY FREAKING BOUNCER WAS TOO BUSY PLAYING BELLBOY! And you god damn wench, you didn't travel two hundred freaking kilometers to get even more air headed!" Mike pulled her head down by her ear, she squirmed a bit and relaxed. Her body bent like a green twig with the small box balanced on her right paw. He looked at each one of the troublemakers, fuming and showing his teeth.

"Got it out of your system, Mikey?" The white polecat smiled.

Finnick noticed how with a sleight of her paw the small box vanished under her dress. He smiled at her cunning.

"Yes." Mike sighed. "Finnick, you calm the hell down. You three, get your crap out of here. But pull again one of those and you are banned from here, you understand? And you either leave now with your crap or throw it all in the garbage, I don't care which." He turned his back and took his leave to the bar counter.

Lucy gave a wide smile, she turned to the big black bear. "I can handle these four, Reason. Thanks for the help with my room, I'll be sure to bring you a snack during the night."

The bear returned the smile. "Be sure to get _everything_ out of here Lucy. Your brother will be very pissed with me if he finds that _anything_ stayed in here."

"Of course I'll you silly!" She winked at him.

"Your brother is gonna kill me…" He laughed a loud laugh and headed back to the bar's door.

The trio looked at each other for a moment, a bit lost on what to do next. The beaver broke the silence.

"Gabor, how are we gonna do this?"

"Charlie… take our stuff to your home, it seems like me and Finnick have a lot to talk about… And take Fred to his brother, tell him what a fuck up he is becoming."

Fred looked down, a sad frown on his face. "I'm sorry Gabor… I panicked and…"

"Really Fred? What did you intend? To shoot him here? In _this_ bar? Have you lost your mind or are you just plain stupid?" Gabor waved toward their belongings. "Take our shit and leave and be happy I don't beat you senseless."

The meerkat lifted his hand in protest, his mouth hanging open searching for an answer, somewhere. But his gut failed him, his hand hung back down and so did his head. He got on his knees and started to grab their drugs, hiding them in the many pockets of his jacket.

Charlie took the stun gun and hid it on his back. He slapped Fred's head and signaled with his head for them to go. Gabor looked at Finnick, a tender half smile under his whiskers. "Sit with me Finn, let's talk. It's been too long since we grabbed a beer."

"Mind if I join you both?" Lucy smiled lessened to a coyer one, her scarlet eyes shining in the dim light of the bar.

"I don't think…" Gabor started.

"Sure." Finnick interrupted him. "As soon as you give his opium back."

Gabor raised an eyebrow, Lucy pretended to be surprised.

"Oh, this silly thing?" The box seemed to appear in her left hand from behind her back. "Ain't finders keepers a saying around here?" She laughed a poisonous laugh. "We can bet for it, if you two are up for a hand of poker."

Finnick wondered how she did that. "I don't suppose you have a deck of cards with you, do you?"

"Oh, let me see…" She wobbled her waist and a small purse showed from behind her back. She opened it's zipper and meddled with its insides, a small deck of very decorated cards. "Do you boys know the Musteille deck?"

"Musteille?" Asked the ocelot, puzzled.

They climbed to the tall table and each took a stool. Lucy laid her purse at her lap and started to shuffle.

She laid the deck onto the table. "How much is this little box worth my dear fox?"

"15 a gram. There are 4 packages of 5 grams of paste in that little box, so we are adding up to 300 dollars." Gabor looked to the ceiling as he talked, making mental calculations. "That begs the question, though, why would I let you steal from me?"

"It's a bit late for that, sweetheart, don't you think?" She threw a white table coaster toward Finnick. "Big blind." And a black one towards Gabor. "Small blind. Let's keep the small at 75, as I don't want to spend the entire night here." She reshuffled the deck of cards and started to deal. "From what I've caught out the cat here is Gabor, now what is your name? I can't just call you bad fox, can I?"

Finnick opened his wallet and pulled 150, laying it on the table. "They call me Finnick." He took his cards, they felt like very old paper to the touch. When he opened his hand he could see the well decorated cards, all themed with polecats and otters. He managed to recognize a king and a queen, but the other symbols were a mystery to him, he could only grasp their quantities. "So… what are the suits here?"

"Polecats are diamonds, otters are hearts, wolverines are spades, badgers are clubs." She put two 1 dollar coins on the table. "I can't put the packs in here, so take those as tokens."

Gabor shrugged. "I call too." He added 75 more to the table.

They played four hands and, one after the other the polecat either gained a bit or lost almost all she had until she had only one pack of chinese tobacco. Finnick knew how this was going to turn out, but he still hadn't caught her method. A jazz band started playing at the other corner of the bar, voices all around calmed down as the music settled in the badly lit environment.

Lucy gave a sad smile. "Well boys… last game?"

"You don't have a lot more to… give me back, have you?" Gabor was now 450 dollars in. "But what the hell, I came here to have fun." He took a last gulp from his jug of beer.

Finnick had lost 25 dollars so far, having only 175, it wasn't his day. "Fine." Finnick threw 75 at the table. "You remember that all you have is 75, right?" Asked Finnick to Lucy.

"Oh I know Mr Finnick… You know what they say, unlucky at cards…" She dealt the cards, one by one. Finnick now noticed a small scratching sound before each card was dealt. Even the loud trumpet playing couldn't drown a sound so close to him.

Gabor called, cards were discarded and drawn, all through the agile hands of the white polecat. The slight sound repeated itself at each card that was picked. They didn't raise the bet, as no one wished to risk any more and Lucy was almost out of the game. Even crooks seemed to have courtesy these days.

Gabor threw his hand at the table. "Pair of sevens."

Finnick laid a pair of fives and a pair of jacks on the table. "Two pairs." He looked at Lucy smiling. Now comes the humble victory.

The white polecat smiled and laid three twos on the table, each sporting a different animal. "Well, I can only take… 225, right?"

"Exactly." Answered Finnick, as he picked back his 150 from the table.

Lucy pushed the small box over the table, towards Gabor. "There's the last one I owe you from that hand, I picked my three." She winked at Finnick. "Nice getting to know you two, have fun!" She jumped off her stool and walked towards the bar counter, vanishing in the midst of the other tables.

Gabor sighed. "There's really no honor among thieves, eh?"

"You aren't a thief Gabor." Finnick signaled for a waitress. "Well, let us have our talk then. Why did you sell to those teens? And what is this new stuff you are handling?"

"Finn, how long have you been out of the game? Ten years?" Gabor pocketed his small ornate box. "You got out when Ol' Squeaker was put down, right?"

"No, I think it was… 6 months before that happened. He was the one that helped me get off even with everyone." Finnick turned to the gazelle waiter that arrived. "Close his tab, please."

The waiter nodded with a forced smile. She seems tired. Finnick thought. He glanced at a wall clock, _11:45PM already, tomorrow will be a long day._

"What, you are taking me home now? I think I'm a little too big for that now Finn." Gabor played with his empty jug. "Besides, I've resupplying to do later this night."

"Somethings are better talked about while walking." Finnick glanced around, no faces paid attention to them, but this sort of subject always got him a bit paranoid. "And I can accompany you, it's not like this is all new to me."

"What if someone recognizes you? You paid a lot to be left in peace, people won't be glad to see you back on the streets." Gabor peered at him, his hands fiddling uncomfortably with the jug's handle.

"They are _all_ dead Gabor." Finnick frowned, saying that hurt more than he would like to admit.

Gabor paid his tab and they both left into the cold night. The crescent moon shone a timid light on the badly lit bar. Finnick could see a couple of cars parked close to the bar, a couple inside one of them. The "Worlds' End" was busy for a wednesday night.

They walked back to the city, away from the docks and deep into Savanna Central. Gabor guided them into a quiet street of small houses on one side and hangars on the other. Other than the street lights it was all darkness and silence in that street.

"Look Finn, I respect you. You know that, right?" Gabor looked straight ahead and walked slowly, keeping up with the small fennec at his side.

"Yet you broke what we had agreed." Finnick's ears moved around, but not even a cricket made a sound around them.

"I broke squat Finn, I didn't sellanything to any kids. You know they are more trouble than they are worth. And specially people from Happytown, there's that old say."

"You don't shit where you eat. Yeah, I taught you that. And yet there were these two teenage coyotes getting fucked up with this new shit, this… fassu or something." Finnick glanced at the cat for a reaction.

Gabor stopped and looked at him, an expression of realization in his eyes. "Oh! Those two! They are teens? Are you for real? How did they get that big?"

"Big bones, better food than we had when we were kids, good genes, doesn't matter." Finnick crossed his arms and glared at Gabor.

"Wow man, 'the hell should I know? They are fully grown and all!"

Finnick knew that he was right, but that was beside the point. He had to show strength or his well earned peace might be threatened. He jumped and grabbed Gabor by his collar, throwing him to the ground on his back.

"You listen here you piece of shit, I taught you better! I managed to keep our poison out of Happytown after I took over the Square and I gave it all to you with one freaking condition! You got it all on a silver platter and this is how you repay me?" Finnick threw his head against a fence, he hit it with a dull sound.

Gabor quickly stood up, he felt behind his head, but it was only a bruise. "You think I wanted any of this shit? You know how hard…" Gabor shouted, but Finnick cut him off.

"Are you talking back to me?" Finnick voice sounded more like a deep growl than words. Gabor went silent, immediately.

After a moment of confusion Gabor spoke. "I'm sorry… I'll be more careful…" In a sheepish tone, looking at his feet.

Finnick saw again the shy boy that came to him so many years ago, he knew that he had won and that he was still under his heel. It would be good enough for now. He opened a wide smile and patted his back. "That's what I wanted to hear, you are still a good man Gabor. Just don't let me down."

"I… I won't Finn. And we expanded a lot since you left it's harder to keep track of everything… B-but we… I'll improve it!" Gabor sported a desperate smile on his face, his wide yellow eyes twitching nervously.

"You better. You don't want me to be back here again. What's our one rule?" Finnick looked deep into his eyes.

The ocelot shied his eyes away. "No deals to Happytown."

"That's my man. Now, what is this new fassu stuff? One of the kids blacked out from a single use." Finnick signaled them to be on their way.

Gabor picked his slow pace again. "It's fazu. It's a new product we have now, super simple to smoke, very cheap and very strong." He picked a pez dispenser and flipped it once. A small gray pez fell on his hand, he extended it to Finnick.

Finnick could see the small gray pez now, it was porous and had a cartoonesque canid pressed on it, happy face and all. With a little press it crumbled into a very light powder, the smell of nutmeg was the first he noticed, then came the ammonia.

"What's it made off?" Finnick cleaned his fingers on his clothes and threw the pez away.

"No idea, maybe the heavy part of opium when you make heroin or something like that. And we are here." Gabor stopped in front of a small white house. It had a white wooden fence and reddish roof tiles. Was, by all accounts, a regular house, well cared for and well kept. "You stay here, I'll get this week's products."

Finnick stood by the small wooden gate as Gabor went in the stone path and knocked on the door. A few moments after the door opened and Gabor stepped in, Finnick could hear him being greeted, but after the door was closed, silence took back the night. He sat on the curb and watched as the moon made it's way across the sky. Was it 1AM, 2AM? He wasn't sure. He felt very tired by now, that's what he knew.

Gabor took good ten minutes before getting out with a backpack hanging from his right shoulder. The cat smiled when he got to Finnick's side.

"Ready to go?" Asked Gabor.

"Yeah. Everything ok there?" Finnick got up and stretched his back.

"Yes, my supplier is quite alright." Gabor passed his left arm through the backpacks left handle. "Where are we off to now?"

"I'm going home and so should you." Finnick smiled paternally towards the taller ocelot.


	4. Hunted hunter

The black car stood still at the intersection, having the street on its left side. There seemed to be no passengers in it, all lights were out. Suddenly, if you paid close attention, you could see the lenses of a camera lifting slightly over the edge of the window by the driver side. The objective closed and opened three times, silently. Again the camera vanished over the window's edge.

Peter was sat on the car floor, the passenger seat moved way back to give room for him. He looked as Howell brought the camera to her face and started to flip through the pictures. She was lying down on her seat, which was itself leaned almost horizontally. Peter wondered how she did not fell asleep being that way for so long. He did his part, of course, someone had to talk in that car.

"I think we got it." Howell spoke, finally.

"Really? Let me see it!" Peter picked the camera from her hands and looked at it. The fennec and the ocelot stood talking in front of a house in one picture. In the next the ocelot was getting in the small white house, the fennec waiting next to a wooden fence. In the next one the ocelot was getting out of the house with a big backpack. "Wow, it only took…" Peter glanced at his clock, it was 3AM. "Six hours. Well, we have a record... or something."

Howell lifted her sit a bit, enough for her to see something from the streets. "We should bust him. He's carrying a week's worth of drugs in that backpack."

Peter gave a look of doubt to her. "Howell, we might screw the whole investigation. Are you crazy?"

"Just… hear me out, ok? We can tail him to his home and then, when he is trying to open his door." Howell punched her hand. "Bam! We stop him, ask to inspect his backpack, he gets all nervous, we find the drugs, arrest him and the show is over."

"Yeah, the show is over for Mr Garras, but a different rat…" Started Peter.

"That's speciesist." Howell gave a coy smile.

"Screw you. Another scumbag will take his place. We have to take out the supplier or the chain will only keep on going. Besides, we got where the supplier seems to be, this might link to where he get's his drugs and so on." Peter gave the camera back to Howell. "Are they gone?"

"They are getting to the next corner, you can get back to your seat." Howell started to lift the seat to a regular position.

Peter slipped back to the passenger seat and pulled it forward. "The idea to tail him to his home, though, isn't a bad one. He might not actually go to his home, but to a safe-house where he store his merchandise."

Howell relaxed on her seat. The car moved slowly, keeping a distance from the two mammals. At one point the fennec waved and crossed the street. She drove around the block and parked in the opposing intersection. A few minutes by and the ocelot walked right next to their window, ignoring the car altogether. After he passed Peter turned in his seat to accompany him through the rear view mirror.

"Play it cool." Said Howell. She tapped her side window, pointing to her rear view mirror.

Peter turned forward, he felt anxious being stuck in that seat, all the stalking had triggered his instincts. He had forgot how much it messed with his focus to follow someone like that: his tail hanged low without touching the car floor; he could feel his clothes touching him, the texture of the car seat; he could even hear Howell's breath.

He snapped out of it when Howell opened her door, she signaled him to follow and Peter happily complied. He slipped through his door and walked up to her side, she pointed to a small apartment building and then to her ears. Peter focused on the task and paid attention to their surroundings. With an almost silent click the door opened behind him and the sound of Howell sniffing picked his attention.

She advanced following the ocelot's smell and Peter tagged behind her, closing the complex's door. They entered a corridor with old moldy wallpaper themed with green leaves and branches and, over each door, a small pot of long leaved brackens hanged, their leaves brushing the floor. As they walked forward, the air got more and more damp, Howell seemed tense, Peter felt it was just like his home.

Howell knelt and sniffed a door handle, Peter picked up his cellphone and took a picture of the number at the side of the door. They glanced at each other and started to walk back through the corridor, the only noise being the ruffling of leaves on their clothes. Suddenly Peter heard a door being cautiously unlocked: a spin in the key; a pause; another spin. He froze into place, his hand slipping inside his right pocket and touching his pellet gun. Howell noticed his behavior and leaned her back against the wall, gun in hand. The door handle cracked and the door in front to the one they stood just moments ago opened. They both pointed their guns, fingers away from their triggers, ready to fire at whatever threat came out.

A lynx walked out of the door, she wore a light blue robe and had tired eyes semi opened. She glanced at one side of the corridor and then the other and then looked forward. She blinked once. Twice. The lynx then stared at both Howell and Clawson and gasped.

Peter and Howell lowered their pistols and looked at each other. Howell simply shrugged and signaled to the lynx to be silent. Peter saw the lynx nod and walk back inside, her light gray eyes wide as plates.

Peter shoved his gun back in his pocket and took a deep breath, calming himself. Howell started walking back to the door and he followed her lead. They climbed into the car and, once inside, stood in silent, unmoving, for a few moments.

Howell threw her piston on the back seat. "Fuck!" she shouted, breaking the silence.

"My heart almost came out of my mouth…" Peter unbuttoned the first button of his shirt and massaged his chest."You sure we got it?"

Howell nodded, staring blankly at the car wheel. "A…" She started to say, her mouth hanging open, but no words coming out. For a moment he saw her eyes become full of fear, but at the blink of an eye it gave place to sternness . She frowned, grabbed her seat belt and fastened it. The car came alive with a low growl and she started to drive along the street.

Peter gazed outside his window, the night lights passing fast by his right. He felt like he should make a remark about the car speed, but it was late and he was very tired. At the horizon, towards the bay, orange started to conquer the dark blue. He didn't realize when the car turned or when they got to the precinct, but there they were, parking the car and all.

"You dozed." Said Howell in a dry tone. She reached for her pistol and inserted it into the holster on her waist.

Peter shook his confusion away. He stretched his arms, his claws and every fiber that he could in that enclosed space and then looked at her. "Dany, are you ok?"

She seemed startled, but not disturbed. "We overreacted back there, that's all." Howell unclipped her seat belt and leaned on the car wheel.

"Yeah, shit happens and all…" Peter gave a light slap on her shoulder. "But hey, we got more work done in one night than those blokes at IB in a whole month. We didn't even had to drink all that stuff we bought."

Her ears lifted. "Oh, yeah." She reached for the center console and picked the energy drinks. "Think Clawhauser like these?"

"That slob likes anything that is sweet, I think." Peter picked the pack of biscuits but glanced at her. "I know, not in the car. Yakety yak." He opened the door and opened the pack, small crumbs falling the garage floor. "Oh no! Cookie crumbs on the ground! Call the police!" He glanced back and saw her smile. "You want a cookie?"

"Nope, still ok from dinner. We should give our report." She stepped out of the car and stretched her back.

Peter climbed out of the car and closed the door. As soon as the door was shut the car beeped and all the doors were locked. They walked along into the precinct and then to its back. On their way Howell left the two cans that she carried on the receptions table, which was still empty this early in the morning. They reached a glass wall written "Intelligence Bureau" in black ink on it, a big plastic door shutting off the small office.

Inside there was no one still. Each pulled a chair and sat beside the Lieutenant's personal office. Slowly sunlight started to come into the office and tinge the creamy desks with gold, with it a red fox with sunglasses stepped in through the door. He looked at them both and smiled.

"If it ain't Cranky and Kawky, you two look like crap." Wilde folded his sunglasses inside his clean white shirt front pocket.

"Oh… if it ain't... " Peter pressed his temple. "Screw you Wilde, we didn't catch any sleep this night…"

"You haven't." The fox pointed at Howell. Her head hanged over her chest, her arms crossed holding her in a sat position.

"Oh…" Peter slowly blinked and then yawned, his fangs stretching way out.

"Wow, be careful with those Inspector Clouseau. And why don't you two sleep in your car or something?" Wilde pulled a chair and sat in front of them.

"Lieutenant Noggum always gets here soon… so we can deliver our report and…" Peter yawned again. "Head home."

"Well, good luck with Lieutenant No-fun, you'll get him at his worst time of the day." Wilde stood up and pushed his chair out of the way. "Enjoy yourselves in our luxurious office and at least try to get a coffee." The tod walked off, leaving the two to their thoughts and the rising sun.

"Yeah… not a bad idea…" Peter nudged Howell's shoulder. "Howell. Coffee."

"Hrump…" She opened her eyes and looked around. "Yeah. Coffee sounds good."


	5. Where wolves lay

"... then we followed him where we believe he would keep his stash. Well… sort of. Howell tracked his smell." Clawson picked up his cellphone. "It was on apartment 42."

The old dingo stared at them both for a moment. He then proceeded to once again go through the images in the camera he held. "Good." He muttered.

"Are you sure of that Howell?" Asked Lieutenant Noggum after another moment of pause.

"Yes sir, my snout never misses." Danielle quickly replied.

"Good." He answered again. "And who is this fennec?"

"We don't know sir, we still hadn't a chance to meet." Clawson smiled.

The Lieutenant glared at him, Clawson wilted, his ears pointing back. "Still, a good job. You two are dismissed for the day, go get some rest."

"Thank you, sir." Danielle saluted the Lieutenant and took her leave. Clawson soon followed behind her, walking through the now bustling office.

"'We still hadn't a chance to meet.' Really?" Danielle glanced to him, heading towards the main exit of the building.

"Just trying to break the ice." Clawson waited for her go through the push door and went right after. "Are you not taking your car?"

"I'm almost falling asleep Clawson, how am I to drive?" Danielle covered her eyes from the sun. Way too bright for this time of the day… "Besides, I live only two blocks from here."

Clawson held her sleeve. "Wait, really? And were you walking the entire day with that coffee stain?"

"Oh! Wow!" Danielle held her hands up. "Someone call the fashion police!"

She started to head to her house. A block later she noticed that Clawson was still at her side.

"Peter… aren't you going home?" Danielle stopped and turned to him, her tired eyes hurt from all the light and his golden fur didn't help a lot with that.

"Sure! I'll catch a cab. I'm just… you know." Clawson nodded his head towards her way.

"Walking me home?" Danielle lifted an eyebrow. "Really Peter?

"No Howell, I want to know where the hell you live! We've worked together for three years already and I don't know a whole lot about you. That's… weird, you know?"

"Oh…" Danielle scratched her head. "I... " She looked around trying to find something to distract herself with, but the streets were an uninteresting sight. She sighed. "Look Peter… I… I'm not good with people."

"Really? Never noticed." Clawson muffled a laugh.

"No, I mean it. I'm not good on… this kind of stuff. Personal stuff!" She crossed her arms and backed a step away from him. "I… Look, you are a great partner. Even a friend, and you know I don't throw this word around. But..."

"Wow Danielle, calm down." Peter took a step forward and pressed her shoulder. "I'm just messing with you. Just don't turn down the next time I invite you to eat at my home, my mom cooks very well and all." He smiled reassuringly and took his hand out of her shoulder. "Just… relax, ok?"

"Yeah… relax…" Danielle looked down to her feet and then up to the sky, evading his eyes.

"Ok, ok. I'm going. I won't follow you to your cave." Clawson waved for a passing cab and walked towards it. "Just be a good wolf and woof if you need me." He stepped in the taxi and vanished into the low traffic.

Danielle stood there for a second, trying to calm herself down. She liked her colleagues at ZPD and more and more people tried to approach her, but she still wasn't ready for that. _You are almost forty Danielle, are you waiting a parade or something?_ It was Peter's voice in her head, she really had got used to having him around.

She started to walk back to her home. Here and there someone waved towards her and she would nod to one or another person. They were her neighbors or storeowners that she would run into everyday since she moved there eight years ago. So much happened in that meantime… _I'm too tired to be thinking about all this… I just have to sleep this all off…_

She got to her doorstep: her small house over a florist's store. She climbed the ladder and opened the door, but only the noise of a turned on television in her father's room could be heard, no voice there to receive.

Danielle closed the door and walked into her living room. Should she change before going to sleep? She looked at her reflection in the television screen in the middle of the room and saw the stain in her pink shirt. _Yeah… let me put on something lighter… and cleaner._

She walked along her kitchen and into her small laundry room, her small wardrobe stood there. She opened it's door and and looked at herself in the dressing mirror. She opened her mouth and pulled her cheeks, looking at her teeth. Everything seemed fine, so she started to unbutton her shirt. In the mid of it a pair of strong arms hugged her from behind.

"Danielle! Finally you are home! So how was work?"

Danielle turned to look the old coyote lady in the eyes, her brown fur mixing with the old wooden boards of the floor. She couldn't help but smile. "Oh… hi Rosa, how are things here?"

"Everything is under control Danny, you don't have to worry!" Rosa looked at her from top to bottom. "Oh, you are a mess young lady!"

"Yeah… it was a… long night." Danielle turned back to her wardrobe and resumed undoing her shirt, which she carelessly threw over the washing machine. She took off her pants and picked a light nightdress she liked, throwing it over her body and feeling as the soft tissue slipped through her fur. She relaxed with the touch of the dress and leaned against the wall.

Danielle took a deep breath and could finally feel the weight of her arms and how tense her shoulders were. With the same breath came in the smell of toast and her stomach rumbled. She followed the smell to the kitchen where Rosa was setting a plate of toasts with margarine.

Danielle sat at a stool close to the counter and started to pick at the toasts, too tired to do anything more. Rosa glanced at her wristwatch and took off her green apron, shoving it inside her backpack. She sat at Danielle's side and caressed her left ear.

"Rita hasn't arrived yet to take over my shift, want me to wait a bit more?" Rosa asked the gray wolf.

"Oh… no Rosa… go to your home, I can hold things here in the meantime. She should be here in…" Danielle glanced at a wallclock over the fridge. "Half an hour or so."

"But you are so tired Danielle…" Rosa shuffled in her white dress, crossing her legs.

The coyote's brownish face became a blur for a moment. "Danielle. Danielle! Danielle!" She heard from afar. She opened her eyes again and Rosa was pulling her arm, away from the kitchen counter.

"Rosa… what are you…" Danielle mumbled.

"I'm putting you on your sofa. You need to sleep Danielle, look at your eyes!" Rosa pulled her towards the sofa and pushed her blanket away from the middle of it. "Here, lay down, I'll stay a bit more, you don't have to worry."

"But… your family…" Danielle laid on the sofa and Rosa pulled the blanket over her. She thought on trying to protest, but her body felt so… light.

"You don't worry silly head I…" Rosa spoke, but her voice sounded far, far away.

Danielle dreamed dreams of a past long forgotten. She saw a stethoscope being thrown to a wall and how the metal sound ringed when it hit the stone floor. She saw her brothers and sisters walking away from her, ever more far from reach. She tried to follow them, but they vanished in mist. Suddenly she was on the streets of Tundratown, walking alone amidst the falling snow. In an alley her father waited, sat in his old armchair. The snow accumulated over his arms and head, his eyes were closed, his expression hard as rock. Suddenly, his eyes opened and shone an orange fire, painting the snow around him. His mouth opened, but a woman's voice sounded.

"... breaks loose as protesters confronted in the docks this afternoon. Thirteen were arrested and property damage can be as high as half a million dollars." The voice sounded.

Danielle blinked to the image of masked mammals wrestling in the streets with stick and stone. Suddenly what seemed to be a canid of some kind threw a molotov and it hit a white house. The fire quickly spread along the roof and the green garden.

"These shocking images are only a new event on the escalade of violence that we've witnessed as more progressive agendas are pushed in Congress. One have to wonder what our congressmen…" Danielle muted the television. She looked around the room, the sun seemed to be setting and a female wolf knitted, sat on her father's armchair. She wore a pink dress over her black fur, a pair of glasses hanging from her snout magnifying her grayeyes..

"Good morning Danny." Sounded the wolf, without taking her eyes of her knitting.

"Morning Rita." Danielle rubbed her eyes and sat up. "What time is it?"

Rita laid down her crochet and looked to the wall clock. "5PM. How was work today?"

"Tiresome…" Danielle stretched her back, making a few pops. "How is dad?"

"Jochen is fine, I checked on him an hour ago." She went back to her knitting but looked up for a moment, remembering something. "Oh! That's right! A friend of yours called! As you were sleeping I picked it up for you. Hope you don't mind."

"Well… No reason to cry over spilled milk." Danielle walked towards the fridge and opened it up. A small assortment of fruits stood in the vegetables drawer. She reached for an apple and started to chew. "Say." Danielle took another bite, the apple was very sweet and it crunched under her jaws. "Which friend?"

"Some Peter. Sounded like a cat. Are you going out with cats now?" Rita worked robotically with her threads, green and yellow interlocking and forming a fabric. "Well… it's none of my business, really. But he sounded distressed, you should call him."

Danielle held the half eaten apple in her mouth and went inside the washing room. She fiddled through her pants looking for her cellphone.

"Your cellphone is here Danny!" Rita shouted from the living room.

She blinked and threw her pants back to the ground. Danielle skipped back to the living room and grabbed the cellphone from her aunt's extended paw. She threw herself back at the sofa and unlocked her phone, looking at the call history. There she saw that Peter had been calling her since 2PM. _Hell Peter, where's the fire? Eight calls in 2 hours?_ She took another bite from the apple and munched, pondering for a moment. She swallowed and called him.

"Howell, what the hell? Were you dead or something?" Spoke Clawson through the cell phone. He then made a surprised expression. "Wait. Are you wearing a dress?"

"What do you want Clawson?" Danielle nibbled at the remains of her apple.

"Oh no! We will not gloss over that. You have dresses? Really?!" His eyes were wide open, a smile growing at the edge of his mouth.

"It's a nightgown and a very bland one at that. And what do you mean by that? Of course I have… one dress, at least?" Danielle looked at her aunt, she shrugged.

"Oh, I always took your for a more… you know. Truck driver type." His smile widened, like a child that had just managed to fool her parents.

Danielle lifted an eyebrow. "You are an ass."

"By the gods Howell, quit being speciesist! You can't say stuff like that!" Clawson laughed over the phone, Danielle rolled her eyes.

"Peter, were you calling just to pester me or did you have anything important to say?" Danielle stood up and went for the trash, discarding the apple core.

"Oh! Yeah! While you were having your beauty sleep the city started going insane again and something very curious happened." Peter laid the phone on something and backed off from it, getting out of camera.

"I woke up with it on the news, just the usual nonsense." Danielle picked her teeth with her index claw. Rita glanced at her and shaked her head.

"Well, not quite." The cellphone's camera turned to the screen of a computer, the frozen image of a half scorched house stood in the screen.

"That's the house that was damaged in the protests." Danielle grabbed her phone with her two paws.

"Yes, but look at these images." The tapping of a keyboard sounded, the video progressed but in reverse. The flames erupted and the water from the firemen went back from the house. The plumes of smoke went inside the walls, which turned from black to white. A few more taps and the front yard of the house rebuilt it self, now some protesters were appearing in screen. "The house was empty when it happened, so there was no need to evacuate."

"That's where Gabor caught his supply." Danielle stood up, her right paw strumming her right thigh.

"And what's the protocol in fires this big?" Clawson's yellow head showed up again in the screen, he looked to Danielle with a content smile.

"Evacuate the building until Civil Defense deems it safe and isolate the area." Danielle's ears stood up, alert. She dashed to her wardrobe and started to search for a clean shirt.

"Now, now. Who would be guarding the place somewhere around… I don't know, 8 PM?"

"Absolutely no one." Danielle threw the cellphone over the washing machine and took her nightgown off. With a single move she went inside a purple shirt and started to button it up. "You know that it's a huge break in protocol, right?"

"Only if they catch us." The phone sounded.

Danielle picked up her phone and looked at Peter, he was still wearing a green tank top. "Aren't you changing?"

"It's... like 6PM. Why rush?" Clawson held his phone to his left side and typed on his computer, glancing now and then towards Danielle.

"Well, don't you want a lift around town to this little misadventure of ours?" Danielle asked.

"Hey, I came up with this fantastic idea. Indulge me a bit, pick me up here." The jaguar looked from his screen towards her, a slight smile in this face.

"Aren't you a lazy cat?" Danielle smiled towards her friend, she should've expected that.

"Just on my day-offs." Peter yawned a short yawn, trying to cover his fangs.


	6. Business as usual

"Could you... please inform me the transfer code... sir?" The lemur had deep baggy eyes. He dozed, here and there, while handling the transaction.

"It's on this piece of paper, take your time." Finnick handed the slip of paper towards the lemur attendant.

The gray mammal picked up the slip and stared at it for a moment. He seemed to force himself to type each letter on his computer, slowly checking each information he input on his screen. _Why would they make a lemur work this early in the morning?_ Finnick asked himself, it was only noon.

The attendant widened his eyes, finally alert. "Mr…" He started.

"Call me Finnick." Finnick interrupted him.

"Could I… see your ID Mr... Finnick?" The lemur extended his hand to Finnick behind the bulletproof glass.

"Sure." Finnick slid his document through a small opening at the bottom of the glass.

"I'll be right back, just give me a sec." The lemur vanished behind a red door. A few minutes passed before a different lemur came out of it, this one wearing a suit. "Mr Finnick, a pleasure to meet you, I'm Garry Catta, manager of this branch of L&L. It seems that you are here to withdraw a sum of five thousand dollars transferred to your name and we at L&L International Transfers always like to care for our clients. Given that this is the fifth transaction of this kind to your name this year we would like to offer you an account in your name, as to guarantee your own safety."

"Oh." Finnick had not realized that Nick had been using this bank so much. _Wilde is getting sloppy._ He thought. "I'm good Mr Catta. Just here to grab my cash."

"I see Mr Finnick…" Mr Catta scratched his chin. "How do you intend to transport such huge sum of money, Mr Finnick? You are aware that we can't, as a way to guarantee your safety, have you walk out of here just… carrying it in a bag or something."

Finnick lifted an eyebrow. "Look… it's just fifty notes of one hundred. You want me to sign a waiver or something?"

"Actually… yes." Mr Catta slid a term through the small opening. "Please put your sign down and fill the blanks with your info."

Finnick sighed. It took a bit more of nagging from the bank's manager before he could, finally, cash his pay. He slid some of the notes inside his wallet and the other bunch he hid in a safe pocket, inside his black jacket.

He got out of the bank branch and was hit by the intense heat of Sahara Square. He should be ok with it, but he never liked the intense heat. Finnick pulled his jacket up and panted to vent out the heat, he walked to a bus stop and climbed up a bench where he could wait. Zootopia bus service wasn't a modern marvel as the rest of the city, but it worked. _Well… as everything else, it sort of works._

Half an hour went by in the intense heat, he craved for a water bottle. Finally the bus appeared around the corner and he signaled for it, the bus stopping a bit too far from the stop and a bit too far from the curb.

He jumped down the bench and walked towards the bus. It's door opened with a hiss and with a hop Finnick got into the bus. The bison driver took only a glance at him before closing back the door and taking off.

Finnick paid his fare and walked down the corridor, tall gazelle, camel and lion legs towered in his path so midway to the back he hanged to a bench's leg. He was accustomed to this drill, so he turned his back against it and hid his tail under the seat, safe from distracted paws.

The air got milder, the sun got higher and the start-and-stop of the bus became a rhythm, minutes went by as he recalled the tasks of the day. _Go to the docks, check with my supplier for friday's delivery, pay my bills, …_ a light bump to his head and a mumbled "Sorry." broke his focus, as he saw a purse dangling past him. He looked around and saw an empty seat by the window side on the bench he held himself, a pig by the corridor side, fanning himself.

He went under the bench and walked towards his seat, going under the pig without him noticing. When he got to the front of it, a large hoof accompanied by a brown leg and a red skirt almost stepped on him, while taking the seat. Like a curtain, the red skirt covered the exit from under the bench. Finnick grunted.

"Hey lady!" Finnick pulled the skirt out of his way and faced the moose. "I'm down here! I was taking this seat first!"

"Oh!" She looked confused for a moment and then faced down, towards the small fennec. "What in the world are you doing down there?" Then a wave of realization turned her expression of surprise in one of disgust. "You pulled my skirt! You sick and perverted fo…" She stopped herself, covering her mouth.

Finnick bared his teeth. "What?" He said. "What?!" He exclaimed. "WHAT?!" He shouted, clenching his fists.

"I-I-I…" Babbled the moose, looking around. "Just get out of there you perv!" She tried to shoo him away with her hind left hoof, but she didn't realize the difference of strength between them two. What was supposed to be a push turned into a small kick, going straight to Finnick's lips.

Maybe he was dumbfounded by what was happening, maybe his experience failed him, but he took it. He fell to his side, a light thump being swallowed by the gasp of the pig. The moose instantly realized her mistake, but froze, not knowing what action to take.

A lioness wearing a tailleur dropped her cellphone, her ears stood sideways, her expression became an angry frown. The bus went silent, no one dared to move nor speak, the air thick with tension. Mammals glanced at one another, prey looking for someone to take charge, predator looking for a threat. Finally the pig stood up and knelt to the ground, at the side of the small fennec.

"Hey buddy, are you ok?" The pig spoke, whilst turning him.

Finnick shook his head, recovering his consciousness. _What a punch._ He thought, while tasting iron inside his mouth, his front teeth feeling numb. He took a spit to his side, a small spot of red staining the black rubberized floor of the bus. He rubbed his mouth with his jacket sleeve, but noticed that it turned into a shining black with blood. Now he understood the numbness. He took his paw pads to his mouth and felt the cut on his lip. It wasn't deep, but it stung.

He now realized that he was being held by someone. He looked up to the startled pig and pushed him away, standing up by himself. The dizziness became worse, so he leaned back against his bench. Mammals moved away from him, except for one. A lioness knelt by his side.

"Sir, I'm a lawyer and if you want we can sue this stupid mammal into the gutter! I saw everything and…" Spoke the lioness.

"Shut up." Said Finnick. He spat again, talking made his mouth drip blood.

The lioness handed him a handkerchief. "Sir, you have to realize that not allowing this sort of…"

"It won't matter." He took the handkerchief to his mouth, staining it red. "Thanks for the rag, could you request the stop?"

The lioness stood up a pressed the stop button, the bus quickly stopped. "Sir, I have to insist that you…"

"Just…" Finnick pushed her tall legs away from him. "Get out of my way…" He drunkenly walked along the corridor, mammals giving way for him. He sort of jumped, sort of fell from the bus on his way out and sat on the curb.

He saw, as the bus left, that animals stared at him from inside, still baffled with what they had seen. The bleeding seemed to have stopped. _That's what happens when you are a cheap bastard and don't take a cab._ He thought.

Finnick took another spit, cleaning his mouth from the remaining blood. He started his walk to the docks, luckily he wasn't that far. After a short ten minutes stroll he saw himself at the doors of the World's End again in less than twelve hours. He knew that the bar would be closed at this time of the day, so he walked around it, to the small and hidden backdoor. He wasn't there as a patron today, but for business.

He knocked and quickly the door started to be unlocked, but it opened only for an inch, revealing Mike's suspicious left eye.

"You are late." Said the polecat. His clean white shirt contrasted deeply with his dark brown fur.

"Yeah, I ran into some trouble. Are you letting me in or what?" Finnick gave a light push to the door with his foot.

The door fully opened and Mike's annoyed expression gave place to a startled one.

"What the hell happened to you? Are you ok?" Michael reached to Finnick's face and turned his snout to his left, taking a good look on the cut. "We have to clean and stitch this. Come." Michael went inside, signalling him to follow.

"Mike… I'm ok, it's just…" Finnick followed him inside the kitchen, an assortment of pans, cups and plates were piled here and there in the messy kitchen. He looked as Mike started to pick up a few bowels and clean rags.

"Lucy!" Shouted Mike towards a staircase in the back of the kitchen. "Grab my sewing kit!"

"What?! Where?" Shouted back Lucy from upstairs.

"It's in my room, first drawer on my wardrobe!" Shouted again Mike. He then turned back to Finnick. "Whiskey or vodka?" Mike offered a small stool to Finnick, who gladly accepted it.

"Whiskey." Answered Finnick.

"Bite this." Mike gave Finnick a wooden spoon, which Finnick bit hard on. He then proceeded to soak a clean rag with whiskey and to clean Finnick's wound.

It burnt. The taste of iron came back to his mouth, now mixed with cheap whiskey and the smell of alcohol. He felt as the rag pushed against his skin and flesh, cleaning and hurting at the same time.

"Shit." Said Mike, a big red stain formed on the right wrist of his shirt. He threw away the now blood soaked rag and folded his sleeves up to his shoulders.

"Michael is this what you…" Lucy walked down the stairs and jumped upon seeing the bloody mess. "Holy crap! What the hell happened to you?" She rushed now, her pink dress pressing against her body, and gave Mike his sewing kit.

"A -oose -icked me." Grunted Finnick, between his teeth and spoon.

Mike took a small needle and some thread. He threw it all in a small bowl and soaked it in whiskey.

"Fucking preys…" Muttered Mike, without taking his eyes from his work.

Lucy leaned against the wall and watched as her brother worked. Bit by bit he stitched Finnick's cut close, here and there cleaning it with a new rag. After some stitches he took a step back and marveled at his work, practice really makes perfection.

"Well… you are going to be a huge success with the kids now." He smiled and crossed his arms.

Finnick took the spoon out of his mouth and threw it at the kitchen sink. "Yeah… that sure will help sales…"

"Is… this normal around here?" Inquired Lucy with a worried expression.

"No." Answered Finnick. Talking hurt, a lot.

"Yes." Answered Mike, at the same time.

Lucy looked at them both in doubt for a moment. "What do you mean?"

"Recently it got worse, things used to be more…" Started Finnick.

"Bullshit. Tell me, does the cops show up at any other bar in the region as frequently as they do here? Or did you ever see a freaking antelope be frisked at night because he looked 'sketchy'?" Mike washed his hands in the sink. "Lucy, clean this mess. We've got work to do."

"Work? With him?" She asked without moving an inch. "What are…"

"None of your business sis'. Just take care of the kitchen." Mike got close to Finnick and offered his arm as support. "Do you need help?"

"No." Finnick stood up and accompanied him to his office. Once there, Michael closed the door and pushed a file wardrobe, revealing a small opening in the wall behind it. He squeezed inside it and Finnick followed, entering a very small room filled to the brim with monitors and computers. The room felt cold and a dim red light was the only thing that illuminated the dark room.

Mike sat on a wheeled office chair and started to type on his computer. One of the computers then ejected a small blue tape, which he quickly swooped and replaced with a new one. He laid the tape on the office desk he worked on and leaned on his elbows.

Finnick put at his side a small stack of notes. He saw as Mike laid a single claw at the edge of the stack and discreetly counted them. "It's all there." Finnick said.

Mike sighed. "How long are we going to keep doing this?"

"As long as it helps." Finnick reached for the tape, but Mike held his paw.

"People are starting to ask questions Finn… They know someone is snitching…" Mike stared Finnick deep into his eyes.

"Did they accuse you of anything?" Asked Finnick, with a worried expression.

Mike seemed to think for a moment. He then let go of Finnick's paw. "No… they've been just… you know, asking around. Three guys got arrested last week, the ZPD guys gotta be more careful."

"Hm…" Finnick paced for a moment. "I'll talk to Nick, he does seem to be getting sloppy."

"He can't fuck this up Finn, it's our necks on the noose here, not his." Mike picked the notes and shoved them into his back pocket. "Let's go back."


	7. Tell me with whom you walk

His flashlight shone white, piercing the darkness. The scorched wood walls contrasted with the white paint were the fires or the smoke hadn't changed it's color.

Peter paused for a moment, he blinked trying to adjust his eyesight and extended the flashlight to Howell. "You are the one that needs it." He spoke.

The wolf nodded and got close to the door, laying her backpack on the ground. She sniffed around and started to fiddle with the lock. A bit of pushing, turning, picking and the lock clicked, the half scorched door now open. Inside they saw an empty hallway: no pictures, no furniture, not even a welcome mat to be seem. They stepped inside and closed the door behind them.

Peter listened, attentively, for any sort of noise, but all he could hear was the far away sounds of traffic near the cross section. He carefully stepped on the wooden floor, not even making a single squeak from his foot pads pressing on it. Howell, however, wasn't that lucky, each step her paws made a tap from her nails hitting the floor, even if done carefully. _Canines weren't made for sneaking._ He thought.

She led and he followed, walking from the hallway to a living room. Again, it was mostly empty, this one had a chair at least. It stood close the an window, now with it's glass shattered. Two stones laid close to it, on the floor, shards of glass spread close to it. He first heard and then saw her black long skirt brushing the ground and dragging bits of glass, followed by her usual tap, tap, tap. _Gods be darned, she actually has women's clothing._ He thought, feeling as if in a "reptile documentary", seeing for the first time behavior of weird foreign creatures.

They exited the living room and entered the kitchen. It was clean, not to say bare, with a fridge standing in a corner, a microwave over the counter. The cupboards seemed to have been emptied, its doors hanging open, but the fridge still made a sound, a low hum.

They both glanced at the window over the sink, towards the small backyard. It seemed well cared, it's grass cut low, but no flowers, tools, toys or any sign that it was ever used. Peter got to the fridge and opened it, revealing a carton of eggs and only that. He smiled, it would reek in a few days. _Bad move to leave the eggs._

He opened the carton with his gloved hand, only three of twelve eggs left. _We might have some pawprints in here. Hell, we might have pawprints in everything here. But what use would it be?_ How could they explain the evidence? They shouldn't be there. And yet…

Peter glanced back and saw as Howell brushed the edge of a dirty cup with a cotton swab. She then proceeded to store it into a small flask and pick a new, unused, swab, collection another sample from a different glass. Peter got close to her and whispered. "What the hell are you doing?"

She glanced at him and kept collecting her sample. "Isn't it obvious?"

"Yeah, but we can't present it as evidence. We could already get royally screwed if anyone ever finds out that we were here, now imagine if someone found out that we were collecting samples. That's not even a discharge, that's straight to jail." Peter pulled her arm away from another cup.

Howell turned and looked at him. "We cannot present it as evidence, _but_ we can use it to find out whoever the hell was in here and…"

Peter leaned his back against the sink. "Oh sure, and how are you getting it analysed?" He saw as Howell attached some scotch tape to a dirty glass.

"We can simply say that we forgot to present it for analysis. And it's not like if Bogo or Noggum do a lot of micromanaging on this kind of stuff anyway…" She removed the piece of tape from the glass and attached it to a glass plaque, then storing it in her bag.

Peter shrugged. "Oh, what the hell. We are here anyway." He knelt and pulled her bag close to him. "What else you got in here?"

"Not much else… our camera, a few more collectors for DNA samples, these glass plaques for fingerprint collection… it's not usual procedure, but it's the best we can do, given the circumstances." She extended to him a new plaque with a single strip of scotch tape glued to it. Peter stored it in a small wooden box inside the bag.

Howell picked up her backpack and signaled for them to go. They walked out of the kitchen and into the main hallway of the house, there they found the door to the basement completely opened. Howell turned Peter's flashlight on and started to walk down the small set of stairs, Peter right behind her.

The basement was completely empty, or so it seemed at first sight. Peter noticed that the walls had marks of humidity: one shaped as what seemed to be a wardrobe, another that maybe was the edge of a table. He squatted and took a close look at the floor, fresh scratching marks could be seem on the floor, something was dragged there recently.

Her familiar sniffing sound caught his attention, Howell stood on her fours close to one of the walls, something seemed to have caught her attention. Peter stood up and walked up to her. He opened her backpack and picked one of her DNA sample collectors.

He wiggled it in front of her face. "You might want to take a sample."

Howell picked the collector with her right paw and opened it with her mouth. She picked the swabble and rubbed it against the corner of the room, a bit of gray power was amassed there. "Nutmeg." She whispered, closing the sample collector.

"They didn't seem to have done this move in much of a hurry." Peter pointed to a four small square marks on the floor, close to the wall. "This table was something like two meters across, it wasn't very easy to move. And by the thickness of this stain…" He pointed to the long dark line that ran across the wall, about two centimeters thick. "It was a very heavy table. Maybe a lab?"

"Hm... " Howell looked around the room and got up. She walked to the opposite corner and rubbed one of her gloved paw pads against the floor. She smelled it and cleaned it against the wall. "A press. This powder is layered in the whole room and those seem like brush marks, don't they?"

Peter paid closer attention to the floor overall and, along with the dragging tracks, in some places the ground seemed to have stripes of dust and cleanliness, like if it was carelessly swept. Howell pointed her flashlight to the stairs and started to climb them. Peter took another look at the small room and followed her beam of light upstairs. They exited into the hallway and turned left. The hallway forked into another, shorter, corridor, which led to two closed rooms.

Howell signaled for Peter and he leaned his ear against the first door, but it was completely quiet inside. He turned the doorknob and silently opened the door. The room was empty of any furniture, but the ceiling was stained with nicotine. Howell entered it right behind him and knelt to the floor sniffing. She would stay in one place, stand up and walk one meter or so, kneel again and sniff a bit more. Peter closed the door behind him and waited for her to be done. _How do their noses work?_ He wondered, he always felt impressed by the way Howell worked. Most canids had a very keen sense of smell, but she made it her craft.

"Three mammals… one was a deer… female… The other two I can't pin… I'm not familiar to these scents." She stood up and started to pace around the room. "They slept here…" She pointed to a general area close to opposite wall to the door.

"And they smoked here." Peter pointed to the yellow stained ceiling.

Howell looked puzzled up and pointed her flashlight, pausing for a moment. "Oh." She quietly exclaimed. "That explains the smell. How long does it take to form one of those?"

"Don't know. Five, maybe seven months. Too much time for this place to have remained hidden." Peter opened the door and slipped back into the corridor. He placed his right ear against the other door and listened attentively when, suddenly, loud music blasted from behind him. Peter threw himself against the door, slamming it open, and hid from sight, gun in hand.

"Sorry!" He heard Howell exclaim. "My bad, sorry." She shoved her head through the door frame and looked around, then to Peter and his startled expression, the music still going. "Well, everything seems fine, I'll pick it up, ok?"

"By the Gods Howell… Are you trying to give me a heart attack?" Peter put his pistol into its holster and took a deep breath, leaning his back against the wall.

"Rosa, I'm working. What happened?" He heard Howell whisper on her phone.

He looked around the room, this one was much neater, but still empty. An empty bed frame stood in the middle of the room and not much else. A closet door was semi-open in the left corner of the room, so there he went.

"What? Are you…" He heard, as her whisper vanished behind the wall.

The closet was small, clearly not made for a mammal his size. It was clean: clean of dust, clean of dirty, clean of anything left behind. He knelt down and patted the back of the closet and tried the wooden planks that supported it. Bingo! He thought, as he felt that one of the boards was loose. He slipped his paw inside, patting through the nails for anything that might've fell behind the plank.

"... yeah... Ten pm, I know… I'll try to get there…" He could only grab fragments of her conversation, Danielle was being discreeter than usual.

After some blind patting his gloved paw pad found something. He shoved his paw a bit deeper and picked up a small object, before bringing it to his sight he knew by the sticky end that it was a USB drive. He brought it to his sight and saw that although it was dusty, other than that, it was in very good condition. He cleaned it and pocketed the small stick, standing up and going out of the bedroom.

He knocked on the other door for no one exactly and opened it. He saw Howell sat on the floor, only one of her legs extended out , her back against the wall. She stared blankly to the wall, seemingly not paying attention to him.

"We… I… have to go home." She spoke, without looking at him.

Peter got close to her and offered his hand. "No problem, you might want to give a sniff to the other room first, though." He smiled a reassuring smile.

Howell looked up at him and sighed. "Ok…" She reached for his hand and stood up, patting her skirt from the dust on the ground.

As she moved to the other room Peter could see how dirty her black skirt was getting. Ain't you a delicate sunflower? He followed her inside the other bedroom and saw as she went straight to the bed frame.

Howell knelt next to it and sniffed. At first she pouted away from it. "Cheap cologne." She said, getting her snout back to work. A bit of walking around the bed and she lifted her snout, an expression of accomplishment to her face. "Warthog." Her expression shifted to stern suddenly. "I've got to go. Now."

"No problem, I think we've got as much as we could get." Peter signaled with his head and they went back to the corridor, Howell swiftly entered the other room and picked up her backpack. Soon enough they were out the front door and back on the streets. They didn't care to lock the door, as they knew the owners would never be back there.

They climbed into the black sedan and Howell stepped on the gas pedal as soon as Peter closed his door. He saw as she glanced to the car's panel every now and then, always keeping an eye on the time. Only ten minutes later she stopped the car with a screech, without exchanging a single word she got out and walked up a set of stairs.

Peter was dumbfounded by her behavior, but he followed her without hesitating. So this is her den. The stairs led to a small apartment over a fancy exotic flower shop, up the stairs Howell fumbled with her keys. Peter stood there quietly while she unlocked the door. She glanced back when she managed to finally unlock it and mumbled. "Make yourself at home…."

As soon as the door opened Peter started to hear a faint beeping sound. Like an annoying clock it was constantly there, every three seconds or so. Howell got to her kitchen sink and washed her hands not once, but three times, before finally drying them with a paper towel. She grabbed an extra one and reached for the single door in the small apartment. She paused for a moment, looking to the ground and taking a deep breath. Finally, she opened the door, the beeping sound frequency and height increasing.

Peter caught only a glimpse from its insides, a white room with a single bed. On it seemed to be a dark dray wolf under a white blanket. The door closed again, keeping any more images hidden from Peter's eyes, leaving only the constant beeping.

He then looked around, trying to find a distraction. He saw a blanket and a pillow on her sofa, her faint smell coming from it. He looked around, trying to find anything actually interesting, when he paid attention to what was on the walls. On one was a family picture, a single adult male wolf stood in the middle of the picture, a very serious expression going along with his dark gray fur. In front of him his, Peter assumed, cubs made three layers: the first with the four bigger ones, their fur ranging from black to white; the second layer consisted of five cubs, their fur of a consistent medium gray; the third layer consisted of a single cub, she wore a pink dress and sad eyes that didn't went along with her smile, but combined greatly with her bright gray fur.

Beside it was a diploma, it read:

* * *

ZOOTOPIA GENERAL HOSPITAL

School of Nursing

Awards this

DIPLOMA

To

Danielle Howell

...

* * *

Peter felt stunned for a moment, the date of the diploma read from fifteen years ago. _Heck, she was twenty two at the time, how the hell did she become a cop?_ Beside it was Danielle's diploma of the police academy, this one from thirteen years ago, she was already five years in the force before Peter got in.

He then heard talking. From habit, he leaned against the wall and couldn't help but to catch a few words.

".. know what I'm…" He heard Howell, the beeping now louder than ever.

"... get out…" A raspy and tired male voice sounded.

"...trying to help you…" Danielle's tone changed, she sounded more snarky and a bit high pitched.

"... of a murderer…" The male voice sounded again, the beeps sounded quicker.

Peter stomach dropped, he shouldn't be listening to this. He backed away from the wall and looked at the sofa and the mess it was. He picked the blanket and started to fold it.

"I AM ALL YOU HAVE, YOU UNGRATEFUL BASTARD!" Danielle shouted.

The door opened once again and Danielle got out, pulling out a pair of surgical gloves. She slammed the door shut behind her and looked at Peter. She opened her mouth, but choke with her own words. She touched her face and felt the tears that rolled down her eyes and with a look of horror she mumbled "No… no..." Howell fell to her knees, crying, broken.

Peter ran up to her and hugged her head against his chest. He had no words, for he knew none would solve anything. He felt as his fur was soaked in her tears.


	8. Better late than never

She pushed him away, she suffered enough already. Danielle brushed her eyes with her shirt sleeve and got herself up. Peter took a step back and looked at her in silence. Danielle turned and went for her kitchen sink, filling a glass of water. She leaned against the sink and sipped from the cup, feeling the water run down her throat and opening it again, for words and air.

"Sorry." She spoke in her usual tone. Danielle laid the cup back to the sink and paused, eyes closed for a moment more. "And thanks." The words came out with a bit of effort, but she meant it.

Peter approached the balcony between him and her; he picked up a stool and sat upon it. He looked at her in silence, a half smile on his face. Danielle opened her eyes and took a deep breath.

"We have to go to the precinct, a friend needs help." Danielle stretched her back and took a step forward, getting closer to the counter. She took a cold toast from a forgotten plate, it was a bit stale by now, but her stomach needed something.

"Care to share what happened to her?" Peter picked a piece of her toast and took a bite at it. "Hum… day old bread. You really eat well."

Danielle smiled and munched the leathery delicacy. "Her son was arrested during the protests this afternoon. She's the one who called earlier." She picked another toast and bit it hard. I should've picked a jam or something… She thought while munching the hard bread.

"Does she… care for him?" Peter pointed to the bedroom. "I never saw you miss a night shift."

"Yeah… She is a nurse." Danielle backed away from the counter and crossed her arms. "Well, we better get going. It's very late already."

"Oh… sure!" Peter stood up from his stool and stretched his back. "Lead the way, Howell."

They walked the short walk to the precinct, all stores closed by now. The precinct was a shimmering light against the gray city; it felt more like home to her than the apartment she lived in. She pushed one of the glass doors open to an annoyed Clawhauser and a distressed Mrs. Huehue, which paced back and forth in front of the reception desk, glaring at Clawhauser every three turns.

When the door closed behind Danielle and Peter, the coyote turned her head to them, her expression of sorrow becoming one of joy. "Danny!" She shouted, running towards Danielle and hugging her.

Danielle glanced at Peter, eyes wide, and hugged Rosa back. "Hey Rosa, how are you holding up?"

Rosa took her face from Danielle's chest and looked at her with teary eyes. "Oh, Danny… they have been holding Marco since 4PM… I just want my boy back; they won't even say to me what he did!"

"That's not true Mrs. Huehue, I've told you time and time again that your son is being held due to his involvement in this afternoon's protests and the 'burning houses' business." Clawhauser tapped the table with his claws, head supported by his left paw. "Howell, Clawson, how are you two doing?"

"Having a blast of a night, how about you?" Said Peter, while approaching the reception desk.

Danielle pulled Rosa to a bench and sat with her. She looked at her dark brown watery eyes and scratched her chin. Rosa trembled and supported her head on Danielle's hand for a moment, taking a deep breath.

"Was it him? The one with the molotov?" Asked Danielle, softly.

A tear rolled down Rosa's eyes and she nodded. "I don't know what to do anymore with that boy… He has been acting up so rebel of late, even dragging Antonio…"

"Rosa…" That knot was back in her throat. _Why has it always gotta be everything at once?_ "This is very serious. I'll… ask around. But he… he won't get away with this…"

Rosa looked down to Danielle's lap; she clasped her hands, holding the pain in. She holds strong, even in a moment like this. Thought Danielle.

Danielle pulled Rosa's head under her chin and hugged her. The coyote let out a single low whimper and exhaled a hot breath in Danielle's neck. She pulled a handkerchief from her purse and delicately cleaned her eyes, a bit of the rimmel had smudged.

"I'll see what I can do, ok?" Spoke Danielle, softly.

The coyote nodded and gave Danielle a gentle half smile. "Thanks Danny."

Danielle walked away from her friend and passed by the reception. As soon as she made eye contact with Peter she signaled him to follow.

Peter, on his behalf, waved to Clawhauser and jogged to Danielle's side. "Took you long enough." Said Peter with a tired expression.

"Hey, I didn't want to bother you two. You have such good chemistry together." Danielle grinned with her small taunt.

Peter grimaced. "I would rather lick a porcupine."

"Oh, so you got over the interspecies thing now? Judy will be super happy to hear that." Danielle nudged Peter and opened a door for him, entering an empty office.

Peter smiled. "I see you are back in a good mood. What is the situation?"

"You remember that canid which burned the white house? Yeah… her son." She sat at her desk and logged in her computer. "Marco Huehue, 17 years old, no criminal record… well, until today. Hm…" Danielle scrolled his small record to his arrest report. "He did not resist arrest and was captured right after the protest dispersed. He was identified due to the bandana he wore as a mask."

"So… he is pretty much screwed. A-1 felony. The least he will get is fifteen years…" Peter pressed Danielle's shoulder, shrugging.

"Actually he may see as less as 3 years." Sounded the familiar voice of Wilde.

Peter and Danielle looked back, the red fox leaned on a desk behind them, a coy smile on his lips.

"Good to know that you are friends with the Huehues Howell, but that's a tad unprofessional of you." Wilde crossed his arms and widened his smile.

"What? Trying to help people?" Danielle answered, annoyed.

"No. Working on your day off." Wilde moved between Danielle and her desk and started clicking on her computer. "I see that they didn't add his testimony to his record yet… Anyhow, before Cawky here starts yakking..."

"Can't you give us a break and just say whatever you want to say?" Interrupted Peter, slapping Danielle's desk.

"Not a moment too soon." Again, Wilde leaned against Danielle's desk, a sober expression on his face now. "Our little arsonist doesn't seem to simply have acted out of his own will, but was actually paid to accidentally hit the house. What he hadn't thought, and maybe the instigators counted on, was that there was a lot of wind today, so the fire spread quickly and catched some of the warehouses on that street."

"Why is the BI involved? Shouldn't this be investigated as a regular crime?" Asked Peter, a puzzled expression under his whiskers.

"This is the second time a place being investigated by us is destroyed right after being found. I… interrupted Marco's interview with another officer and took over. Nofun orders and all." Wilde pressed the lever under Danielle's chair with his foot, making it get lower. "And I knew of Howell's relation with the Huehue's, so I was expecting you both to show up."

"How did you know that?" Danielle stood up and pressed the lever of her chair, lifting the seat up to it's regular position.

"I know everyone Howell." Wilde glanced around, making sure the office is empty. "We might have a mole or, at least, our info is leaking in some way. We are hoping the prosecutor will allow us to offer a deal to Marco and maybe get some clues on how to identify both our mole and the dealers."

"Aaaand why were you waiting for us?" Peter crossed his arms, staring at Wilde.

"Calm down, Kitty Kat. I am giving you both a vote of trust. Noggum is also backing you on this matter, so it's basically we four to solve this pickle." Wilde extended his feet once more to Danielle's chair lever.

Danielle grabbed his leg and lifted the small red fox to her eye height. "Don't test my patience, Wilde."

"Ain't you a ray of sunshine, Howell?" The fox coyly smiled, upside down.

Danielle looked at Peter, doubt in her eyes. "Should we tell him?"

Peter raised an eyebrow. "Really Howell? Are you this dense?"

Danielle frowned. "Well… we might as well…"

"I'm a bit lost here…" Added the fox to the conversation.

"And why do you think we should trust him?" Peered Peter.

"His wife would cut his balls off if he even slipped from 'perfect cop' mode." Played off Danielle.

"And why wouldn't he screw us?" Peter poked a claw at Wilde.

"Hey! I'm right here, remember! What are you two hiding?" the fox's semblance lost its cool for a moment, showing off that even he could be messed with. "And could you please put me down?"

Danielle smiled and let got of his leg without a warning. The fox fell to his fours and quickly got himself up.

"Thanks. Now, what you two have to tell me?" Wilde patted his pants, getting any dirt they might have caught off it.

"We took… some samples from that house today. We figured it would be deserted due the fire, so we took the opportunity." Danielle scratched the back of her head uncomfortable, she couldn't not smile, though.

"And I found this." Peter took a small black pen drive out of his pocket. "I found it in the back of a wardrobe, thought it might've be interesting."

"How much is… some? And plug it in, let us see what is inside." Wilde pointed to Danielle's computer.

Danielle got out of Peter's way and fumbled with her skirt. "Well… maybe 20 pawprint samples and… some 10 material samples…"

"How do you two find the time? And… oh..." Wilde looked at the computer screen wearing an expression of disbelief, his ears turned toward his back. Danielle felt the smell of his fear.

The screen showed a collection of audio and video files, all indexed by names and dates, which were from a month ago. Peter played one of the files labeled "Garras". The video loaded and the scene of a round table in a bar showed, a known ocelot talking with a beaver. They talked, drank and frolicked, enjoying themselves in the silent video. Peter clicked back to the folder and a separate audio file with the same name as the video one played, now they could hear them talk. Wilde passed his hands over his ears, massaging his head. He seemed distressed.

Suddenly a buzz sounded. Wilde picked his cellphone and started to read on it. Soon after, Danielle's and Peter's cellphone buzzed. She picked it up and it was a message from the precinct: all officers off duty were being called to help in a situation at the docks.


	9. Once upon a time, there was a tavern

It was a long time since Finnick got to see the World's End opening. First the musicians for the night would arrive at around 4PM, at least those that wanted to play, Mike was very strict with prepping time for the bands. Then the cook would arrive at around 5PM and the kitchen sounds would start to challenge the tuning of guitars, trumpets, bass and other instruments. At exactly 5:30PM Reason would arrive and take a pint of a strong dry stout, staple of the house. At 6PM the first clients would be let in and the songs would start to play. That didn't mean, though, that they would be served, as the servers would only start to work at around 7PM. They could always walk to the counter and order a drink, Mike would gladly serve them.

That wasn't the proper etiquette of the World's End, though. The pub was famous for three things: being the gathering place for the lowest scum in the city; amazing jazz and blues bands; and being a place where anyone could have a day's work. Every morning Mike would train applicants and, those that seemed capable of sustaining a smile for the 10 hour shift and not piss themselves over serving a crowd of crooks and rogues were good to go.

Finnick played with his piña colada, that was Mike's idea of a healthy meal in his pub and all he would get that night. The stitches in his lip stung whenever he would try to talk or smile, so he decided to do neither for the night. At least that was his idea, Lucy thought otherwise.

"... that was when dad said 'You ain't gonna desecrate this house any further young mis' and kicked me out. Mom didn't even try to defend me…" She stirred her coffee, tinkling the edges of the cup.

"Hm." Grumbled Finnick.

"Sooo…" Lucy pulled a small round mirror from her purse and checked her make up. "How did you and Mike meet?"

"I…" _Why was she there again? Oh, yeah, Mike asked her to care of me…_ "Helped him… set this place up."

The mirror clapped when closed, she seemed satisfied. "Was it when? Fifteen years ago?"

"Something... Around that." _Reason would be better company…_ With every word his lip stretched, turned and the stitches pulled against his skin. Finnick sipped his drink, the faint taste of blood mixed with coconut and rum, he grimaced. _Everything will taste like crap for a few days._

"It was quite the shock for us when Michael left home, I was 7 at the time…. Things were very hard back then, mom and dad scrapped to put food on our tables, but we managed, somehow…" Lucy sipped from her cup, the black liquid staining the fur around her mouth reddish. She licked her lips instinctively and smiled. "You could contribute a bit to the conversation, you know? We are stuck together for this night and all." She crossed her legs, her blue jeans brushing against themselves as her legs fitted one over the other.

Finnick thought on smiling back, but it wasn't worth the effort. "I could always leave, you know?"

"Yeah, right, like if you had somewhere better to be. Is there a Ms Finnick waiting for you back home?" Lucy took his cup and sipped from it. "Wow! Mike aced this!" Lucy stood up in her stool and waved for Mike's attention. "Hey! Michael! Can you make one for me?" She shouted. "What? Don't say that to your lil' sis'!" She sat back, taking another sip from Finnick's drink.

"No, just myself." A new piña colada slid to the front of them, a tired looking polecat soon followed.

"Himself and a life of regrets." Mike collected some tiny beer mugs from a mouse next to them.

"My only regret right now is not having my bat." Finnick took another sip from his drink, it was getting warm already.

"How is the cut?" Asked Mike. He pushed the new drink towards Lucy, making clear that it was for her. She gleely picked it and started sucking from the red and white straw, a wide smile following right along.

"Hurts everytime I talk." Finnick gave him a half smile, sparing his hurt side.

"Drink some more, it will make it numb." Mike poured a mug of beer for Finnick and turned his back, going to attend other paying customers.

Lucy picked up Finnick's mug and sipped from it. He gave a look at her, to which she shrugged. "I like beer."

"Figured." Finnick gave a large sip on his piña colada, ending it. He didn't dislike coconut, but that was a ounce too much coconut milk for his taste.

"Now, for real, how did you meet Michael?" She crossed her legs again, turning her torso towards him. " We were five years without any news of that sod, and then he calls ma' telling that he is all set up and will send us money from time to time." She drank some more, gathering her thoughts. "Look, I'm not complaining. That got me into school and all. Still… you look shady as hell for a guy that sells popsicles."

"Pawpsicles." Corrected Finnick, without even thinking about it. "How so?"

"Well, lets see, a small big headed fennec fox walks into a bar with a freaking baseball bat and threatens a guy that is straight up a drug dealer. Which is an ocelot, twice his size. If that wasn't enough the guy comes the other day with a cut on his mouth and Michael, asshole-let-his-family-think-he-is-dead Michael, takes care of him without a second thought and is feeding him for a day. Does that even ring a bell to you?" She angrily sucked her straw.

The music came to a stop. All clapped, even if a bit half-hearted, and they joined the crowd. Lucy fried him with her eyes, not even a shade of her relaxed and playful self left to be seen. The clapping stopped and a new musician went upstage, a single deer with a saxophone. Once all went silent she started to play a cheery melody.

Finnick turned his back to the bar and faced the center of the pub. He pointed at a table at the edge of the hall. "You see those two polar bears?"

"The ones in sweatshirts?" Asked Lucy, a bit confused.

"Yeah, they are Big's men, Tundratown mafia." He then pointed to a teeny-tiny table close to the bar. "See those six rats right there?"

"Y-yeah." She answered, cautiously.

"They are from the Mentreleones, one of the oldest families in Little Rodentia. The one with a toupee is Lazy Eye Johnny, I saw him gut a pig once." Finnick turned and picked up his mug of beer. "It was weird." He sipped from it, looking at the deer saxophonist.

"I-I-I… why you are telling me all this?" Lucy held her purse with both paws, clearly nervous.

"Look kiddo, you are asking questions." He took another sip from his mug. "This is not the right place to ask questions, nor the right…" Finnick would've kept talking, but a giant white paw slapped the counter beside him, a huge polar bear hovering above him with his red and yellow sweatshirt.

"Mr Finnick." Said the bear behind a toothy smile.

"Hey Boris, how is it going?" Finnick heard him getting up from a mile away, but he expected the bear 'suddenly' appearing would startle the albino polecat a bit more. By her heart rate, he might've overdone it.

"Long time no see... Mr Finnick. Are you back in business?" The giant mountain of fur, muscle and nicotine took only a glance towards Lucianne, paying little attention to her.

"No. And keep your damn nose in Tundratown Boris, my life is none of your damn business." Finnick drank the rest of his beer and put the mug back on the bar counter.

Boris smiled at his bravado and laughed a slow and effortful laugh. "I see you still kept your attitude... Mr Finnick. Have it your way, but let me at least pay you a drink." The giant bear stood straight and shouted. "HEY! MIKE! A SHOT OF VODKA TO GOOD OL' FINNICK!"

That turned some heads, Finnick noticed. The conversation in the rat's table stopped for a moment, all eyes pierced at him. He shrugged and picked his fennec sized shot of vodka. Finnick nodded to the polar bear and smiled, drinking the shot and slamming the the cup downwards back on the counter.

Boris went back to his table and Finnick relaxed his shoulders. He never felt comfortable close to bears in general, they were way too big and way too strong for him to able to do anything if matters came to it. "Did you know that polar bears are actually black?" Asked Finnick turning back to the counter, he had called enough attention already.

Lucy stared at him, mouth hanging open. She finally got back to her senses and hyperventilated a bit. "I want to hide in a hole…" She whispered, sinking her claws in her knees.

Finnick held her cup close to her, offering the straw. She complied and sucked from it, taking a large gulp. She brushed her left paw over her face, pressing one of her temples. "How involved is Mike in all this?" She asked, almost without breath.

"This is the safest place in town. No one can carry weapons in here, no violence is allowed and no selling of anything. This is a neutral place where truces, areas of influence and all the political bullshit that moves the underworld can happen without problems." Finnick jumped from his stool to the floor, signaling for her to follow. "Again, you are asking the wrong questions and way too many."

"But I…" Babbled Lucy., climbing down her stool.

"You are going to live here now sweetheart, you have to get the hang of things. But you are a smart kid, so you will do alright." Finnick smiled, feeling his stitches pull. He guided them upstairs, where a small corridor stretched. There were four doors: storage, guest room, Mike's room and bathroom. At the end of the hallway a small round window aimed to the front of the pub, there Finnick led them both. He pushed open the window and let the seabreeze in, he liked the smell of salt that came in with the night.

The streets were silent and only the murmur of the bar downstairs could be heard, along with the faint sound of music. A blue car approached from the left corner of the window, parking in front of the pub. Then the deer saxophonist appeared exiting the pub, carrying her case over her shoulder. _Her ride._ Thought Finnick.

She opened the car door and a salvo of pellets came flying out of it. _Plec plec plec plec plec plec plec_ _._ He could hear. Reason. He realized. Four mammals came out of the car, one holding a small black object, the others planks and hammers. Finnick froze there for a moment, baffled with what has happening.

"What is going on Finnick?" Lucy shook his arm, getting more and more desperate. "Finnick?! What is going on?!"

As if coming out of a trance Finnick shook his head. He hang his head outside and looked down, in time to see a warthog opening the pub's door and throwing the black object in. _A bomb. Someone is bombing the bar!_ The warthog quickly slammed shut the door, his companions immediately hammering plaques of wood over it. Reason was unconscious, drooling on the ground.

He grabbed Lucy's paw and ran as fast as he could, but only three steps in a deafening bang sounded. He fell to the ground, his ears ringing. Lucy lifted him and guided his steps downstairs, he felt dizzy. There was no fire in the hall, but as his hearing came back he could hear screams, growls, snarls, grunts and the breaking of glass, wood, bone and flesh. The floor, walls and ceiling were stained blue and a pandemonium of claws, fang, horn and blood reigned uncontrollable. She screamed at the sight of the carnage.

Finnick pulled her paw, he didn't want to catch any attention from the ravaging animals. They entered Mike's office and Finnick pushed a chair barring the door. Lucy sat on the floor, a blank expression on her face.

Finnick sat beside her, lost in thought and to the incessant pain in his inner ear. This is bad… Really bad… He picked up his cellphone and slowly dialed.

"911, what's the address of your emergency?" Sounded the voice at the other side.


	10. Every rose has torns

_TRIIIIIM…_

 _TRIIIIIM…_

"Mike's office." _It's the goddamn fifth call. Who else is there?_ Thought Finnick.

"... Mr Finnick. So the rumours are true." A tired voice sounded through the phone.

"Mr Big. I'm very sorry we have to… talk in such circumstances." Finnick shuffled through some notes he took in the prior hours. _What a mess…_ "Boris… was taken by the ZPD to be medicated… Makar is under intensive care."

For a long minute all Finnick could hear was Big's breath, he could feel a hint of anger behind it. He then heard him drinking from a glass of water.

"Ah… I see... And... How are the Farrahts?"

"Mike… is in bad shape, but he will make it. His sister is a bit shocked, she never saw anything like this." Finnick never paid a thought on how desensitized he was with violence until that evening. Once the cops rescued them and started to sort the situation she just stood outside the pub, watching silently.

"Tell them that if they need anything they can personally count on me. _I'll_ take care of them." Finnick could feel him grinning on the other side of the line. He knew better than judge by size, but Big was a way bigger dose of concentrated evil than he could take.

"I'm taking care of everything Mr Big. You don't have to worry." Finnick scratched his forehead. It was the third time he had heard that _offer_ , they wouldn't even wait for Mike to kick the bucket before trying to grab the bar.

"Oh… is that so… Mr Finnick? So you _are_ back in business."

It was as if a shadow came out of the telephone and clutched his guts. Finnick felt his pawpads get humid and his throat close. "No!" He said, exasperated. "I'll just help out Mike while he's in the hospital." Finnick recomposed himself, he had to take over the situation. "Business will run as usual as soon as everything is sorted out."

"Very well Mr Finnick." The phone clicked. Finnick took a deep breath and laid his head on the table. _I just wanted to open a freaking ice cream shop…_

"Knock, knock!" A male voice sounded.

A jaguar officer entered the small office, he stepped above the mauled door, taking care to avoid the broken glass and splinters. He dressed a plain white shirt, which seemed a bit dirty, and a black pair of pants. After him came a wolf, she wore a pink short sleeved shirt and a black long skirt. Both wore their badges at their waist, he noticed. _What an odd pair._

"Mr… Finnick?" The jaguar asked to which Finnick nodded. "Can we ask you a few questions?" He pulled a small notepad from his pocket and a pen. He clicked it and paused for a minute, slapping his forehead. "Where are my manners? I am Detective Clawson and this is Detective Howell, ZPD."

"Ask away Detectives." Finnick laid back on Mike's chair, this would take a while.

"Well, first, what is your relationship with Miss Lucianne?" The jaguar smiled to him, the wolf started to look around the room, giving him little to no attention.

"She is Mike's brother and I'm his friend." Finnick answered.

Clawson scribbled in his notepad. "I see… and how long has this friendship been going?"

"Ten years, maybe more." Finnick noticed the wolf detective squatting to the floor, looking at something amidst the remains of the door.

"That's a very long time. Would Mr Farraht be ok with you handling calls and such? Shouldn't Mrs Farraht be the one handling those?" The detective looked at him, the same sympathy smile on his face. _Nick is way better at feigning those…_ Thought Finnick.

"Lucianne is in no condition to take care of anything right now. Despite, I helped Mike set up this place." Finnick crossed his paw pads over his stomach.

"Oh! That's right, she does seem pretty shocked with what she saw. But not you Mr… Finnick." Clawson's pen stopped writing and he lifted his yellow eyes back at him.

"I grew up in the rough part of town." Finnick would've smiled, but his lip started to hurt again.

"Oh…" His pen was back into action. "And how did you hide from the wolverine's attack?" The yellow eyes again pierced at him, now with a shit eating grin to go along with it.

"I hid with Lucy." Finnick shifted in his seat.

"Oh, we know that, but where? This does seem like a very small office, not many places where a…" The jaguar started.

"Here." Interrupted the wolf. She pushed a file case revealing a hole in the wall. "I don't think I'll fit through here…" The hole was a bit smaller than her head, but big enough for a polecat to pass through with ease. Claw marks showed all around it.

"Hey!" Shouted Finnick. "What the hell do you think you are doing?"

"Let me try." The jaguar approached the hole and started to squeeze himself through it. "It's really here!"

Finnick ran up to the jaguar and reached for his hindpaws, but the wolf lifted him with ease by his shirt's collar.

"Now, now, Skipper. Lets not do something that you will regret." The wolf held him away from her face, she had a very stern expression.

He growled and felt his skin tear, the moisture of blood covered his upper lip. _Where the hell are you Nick?_ Finnick paused and let his body hang for a moment.

"Much better, now let us do our…" Spoke the wolf as she let him down. As soon as he could reach the ground with his hindpaws, Finnick jumped up, reaching for her right arm. He twisted her elbow, forcing her to her knees. The detective tried to turn over him, but Finnick took a jab to the back of her head.

He knew he had made a mistake when she spun over her stomach, bringing them face to face. He let go of her arm just in time to get a kick in his chest instead of his face, getting thrown over the room and hitting the wall.

"YOU GIVE ME ONE FUCKING REASON! I'LL O.D. YOUR ASS IN TRANQUILIZER! JUST TRY ME YOU LITTLE SHIT!" The wolf held her pistol to his face, only a meter away.

"What the hell…" A _TOC_ sounded when the jaguar's head hit the wood over it. "Damnit!"

Finnick had his hand over a shard of glass and started to ponder his options. What would this help? They found it out… he relaxed his body, accepting whatever came next.

 _Click_

A red fox stood under the door frame holding his cellphone. "This one is going to the precinct's message board..." Nick flipped his index pad over the smartphone's screen. "How you doin' Finn? You might want to put that down Howell."

The Detective Howell relaxed her arms and put away her pistol, she looked very angry. Detective Clawson slid from the hole massaging the top of his head.

"Hey Wilde… What happened Howell?" He asked.

"This prick here attacked me." She clenched her paws.

"You two could've… you know… _called me_ and avoided this whole situation." He walked inside the office and offered his right paw to Finnick.

"What the hell is happening Nick?" Finnick shoved the paw away and got himself up, dusting his clothes.

"These two fantastic detectives behind me found out Mike's operation." Nick started.

"Your operation." Finnick added.

"Our operation." Nick corrected him.

"What the hell Nick, you want to kill us all?" Finnick paced a bit and then stared at him. "Wait… does this have anything to do with yesterday's attack?"

"Well… sort of." Nick tried to ease it with a charming smile, but he failed.

Finnick lunged himself against him, knocking the red fox on his back. "YOU ALMOST KILLED MIKE, DO YOU KNOW THAT?!" He shouted, whilst holding Nick's lapel. "YOU COULD'VE KILLED US ALL! DO YOU FREAKING UNDERSTAND THAT?"

"It wasn't exactly my fault Finn, you see…" Nick's smile still stood tall on his face. _What a fucking prick._ Thought Finnick.

"YOU SEE WHAT?! MIKE LOST ONE OF HIS FUCKING EYES!" _There you go you freaking dick, do you understand now?_ He saw Nick's expression change, a hint of anger behind his eyes.

Nick pushed Finnick from over him and stood up, patting his clothes. He straightened his tie and faced the wall away from the little fennec, clearing his throat. "There is a mole in precinct..."

"That's speciesist." Said Detective Clawson, seemingly without paying much attention. Nick and Finnick darted him with their eyes, Detective Howell muffled a laugh. "I… eh… sorry. Go on with your little drama, we have all morning." He picked up a piece of paper over the office desk and started to read it, pretending he wasn't there.

"What the hell Nick…" Finnick massaged his temple, it felt like his world was falling from under him.

"They found one of your pendrives in a suspect's house." Nick faced his friend. "I… never intended for you or Mike to get this much flak…"

"Actually…" The wolf interrupted them both. "It's the same house you visited with Gabor Garras a night ago." She smiled a shy smile, seemingly proud of herself. "We were following you both that night and you brought us to his supplier, it seems."

"Shit Nick… just… shit…" Finnick went around the office desk and sat back in Mike's chair. He paused for a moment, pondering what course to take. "We don't have cameras installed outside, it would be too risky to repair them." He held his head for a moment, before coming to a realization. "The deer! We recorded the deer! And… where is it…" he shuffled through some papers. "Where the hell do you keep it Mike?" He asked himself, opening drawers.

"What are you looking for?" Asked Nick approaching the desk.

"A list! A list of the musicians that played last night! One of them was a deer saxophonist. I saw her enter the car that brought whoever attacked the pub…" He kept shuffling through sheets and more sheets of paper, covering the floor with the wrong ones.

"Is it this one?" Said the jaguar, handing him a sheet of paper.

"What?" Finnick picked up the list and ran his eyes over it. "Here! Evelyn Jika, saxophonist, 9PM!"

"Wait, wait, wait. You said a car, right? Could you identify it if you saw it?" Asked Nick, while unlocking his cellphone.

"Hm… yeah. I think so." Answered Finnick, taking his eyes out of the list.

"Great! Hey honey-bun, good morning!" Nick turned his back to the other occupants of the room and surrounded himself with his bushy tail. "Aww... Did I wake up my always-up-early-cutesy-bun?" He paused some more, fiddling with his tail. Finnick noticed Detective Howell nudging Detective Clawson and smiling. "Ok, ok. I have a favor to ask, do you remember that thing we did a few years back with the traffic cams?"


	11. Now hush little baby, don't you cry

"The car stopped close to the 10th and Pack Street intersection, it's on Pack Street." Sounded Wilde on the radio.

"Shouldn't you guys radio for backup?" Judy's voice sounded from the radio in the car now.

"I think we are good. We are still jus' trying to find them." Replied Clawson.

Danielle held the wheel tight and drove fast through the waking Zootopia. The sea horizon shone red as they drove away from the port. A red dawn for a bloody morning.

She pulled the radio's communicator close to her mouth. "Wilde, how many mammals left the car and how many hours ago?" She stopped the sedan, a few tens of meters away from the blue car. The street was still deserted, being that early, but a bakery seemed to be opening.

"Six." The radio sounded. "One seemed like a big squirrel or something of the sorts."

"Details Wilde…" Answered Danielle, impatiently.

"Ok, ok. I told you she was mad with something." He seemed to say a bit away from his microphone. "We have a deer, the squi-"

"Nick, that's meerkat." Said Judy, in a parenting tone.

"Oh really Miss Bunnywin? Care to continue then?" Poked Wilde.

"Can you two focus for a moment?!" Danielle released her communicator's button, her eyes fixated on the blue car half a block away from them.

"Sorry Howell." Answered both Nick and Judy.

"So… we are looking at a meerkat, a deer, a warthog, a pig and…" She paused a bit, some clicking sounds soon followed. "A llama. The driver was a llama." Proceeded Judy.

"Ok." Danielle put the communicator back on the radio console. "Clawson, what did you get from the place they got in?"

"It's… an office building." Peter tapped furiously on his small notebook.

"Anything of note?" Danielle pulled her pistol. _Pressure is ok._ She pulled the clip and counted the pellets. _Five stun rounds._ She then tested the shooting mechanism, the _fssss_ sound was always relieving to hear.

"Oh…" Peter paused for a moment. He then did a bit of tapping here and there and paused again. "Danny, this is bad."

"What Peter?" Danielle reloaded her clip and cocked her pistol.

"There are a lot of lawyer offices, accountants and a Commercial Representative of Schweinburg. That town is just 10 kilometers from Beavertown." Peter turned the notebook towards her. "You know how mammalpedia has census data from the prefectures now? Take a look."

Danielle pulled the notebook towards her and started to read. _Pig 31%, Warthog 25%, Rabbit 20%, Sheep 23%, 1% other species…_ "Their population doesn't follow the 9-1 proportion…"

"Not just that." Wilde sounded again on the radio. "They have a confirmed Hunter's cell there."

Danielle flicked her pistol back on safe and holstered it. "I can't say that I'm surprised…"

"And now we know what happened to all those Nighthowler shipments." Peter added.

"Damn… so we are back on this tune…" Danielle picked back the radio's communicator. "Guys, thanks for the help, I'll change the channel and call for backup. Bye."

"Bye Danny!" Replied Judy.

Danielle tuned the radio on the main ZPD channel. "Central, this is Detective Howell and Detective Clawson. We tracked the 10-10V involved in this night's 10-33. Over."

It was a brief moment before they got a response. "Detective, this is Central, proceed, over."

"We had assistance from Detectives Wilde and Wilde and we've determined that the suspects are in the building. We request immediate level two assistance. Over." Followed Danielle.

"Detective, please provide the location, over." Dispatch answered.

Peter pulled the communicator from Danielle's paw. "Central, this is Detective Clawson, the address is Pack Street 10452, office 33. Over."

"Detective, 10-7. Over" Replied dispatch.

"Central, that is Pack Street 10452, office 33. Over." Answered Clawson.

"Roger Detectives. 10-6. Over." Ended dispatch.

Peter put the communicator back on the radio and leaned back, putting his notebook on the backseat. "Now we…" He jumped in his seat, hitting the roof of the car.

"Peter are yo-" Started to ask Danielle.

"Shush!" Peter's ears turned wildly. "The hell?!" He shoved his head outside and shouted. "Shit!" Picking up the communicator again. "Central, this is Detective Clawson, we may have to scrap that 10-6, suspects might be destroying evidence, we are moving in. Over."

"What?!" Asked Danielle, and that was when the smell of burning paper hit her. "Are you… ?!" Danielle looked outside of her car and as sure as the day is bright, white and gray smoke was coming from a window on the third floor of the office building.

"Detectives, we strongly advise you waiting for backup! Over!" Replied dispatch in an alarmed tone.

"No-can-douken Central, we are moving in. Over and out." Replied Peter, pulling his pistol from inside his black coat.

Danielle unholstered her own and stepped out of the car, setting the pistol to unsafe. They moved quickly, approaching the office building's front door. At the reception they could see an old beaver in a security garb sleeping silently.

She knocked on the glass door and slapped her badge against it, waking up the now alarmed security officer. He took a few seconds to understand what was happening and unlocked the electronic door, letting them in.

"Officers what is…" Started the guard.

"We have a high risk situation underway. Please do not alert any of the tenants and do not let anyone in that is not a ZPD Officer. Backup is on its way, stay safe!" Said Clawson, cutting him off.

They quickly climbed the staircase to the third floor without even thinking, all attention focused on what was in front of them. Once they reached the emergency exit door for the third floor they paused for a moment.

"Peter, I'll be spearhead, cover my six." Danielle barked, feeling exasperated.

"Roger!" Answered Peter, a smile under his whiskers. "Oh, hey, Danny?"

"What Peter?" Danielle turned and saw his extended fist towards her. She smiled and gave a hard bump with her left paw closed into a fist.

"Lets rock!" He replied.

They moved quickly, silently. No hesitation, just their rhythmic breath and the approaching 33 door. Danielle positioned herself on the left, Peter on the right, they could clearly hear the ruckus and confusion inside.

Peter counted to three with his paw and kicked the door hard. Danielle moved in first, a deer right in front of her to receive her loud shout of "ZPD, NOBODY MOVE!". Her reaction took only a fraction of a second, the first pellet was already hitting the deer's head and the second flying towards her chest when she started to turn thirty degrees left and moving deeper into the room. Reliable as a clock Peter's pistol sounded right behind her, first two times, then a single time. Danielle saw as the llama tried to move towards something, but his reflexes weren't quick enough and she already had him under her sights. _Plac Plac_ sounded her pellets, when they hit the llama's torso and mouth.

She scanned her side of the room, no one was there, just a mess of an office and a burning trash can close to a window. No doubt a lot of evidence destroyed. "Clear!" She whispered. "Two suspects down."

"Clear." Peter whispered back. "Two down, one missing."

She could now scan the whole room, three office desks, computer towers seemingly disassembled in a hurry and smashed hard drives here and there in the room. A flag pole stand with the zootopian flag on one side and a parade blue flag on a spear pole, sporting a white wind rose in it's center. _Schweinburg's flag, I presume._ An opaque glass door stood on the farther side of the office, _Mr Tusk - Commercial Representative_ could be read in golden letters over the glass.

Both of them approached the door, their breath a rhythmic and calm symphony. Like a clock, they both dropped their empty clips and loaded new ones, leaning against the walls on each side of the door.

"The door is open Detectives, please come in." Sounded a voice from inside.

Peter signaled to his ears and Danielle paid close attention to sounds. She could faintly hear talking inside, but the voices were a bit mechanical. She extended her paw and slid open the door, slowly, the sound of the radio flooded her ears now.

".. Patrol #101, 10-6. Over." … "Patrol #32, please move to Pack Street 10452. Over." … "All patrols in Savanna Central, please move to Pack Street 10452. Over."

Danielle glanced inside, a small RAM radio stood on a table alongside a whisky bottle. In the middle of the room a turned over table, only a pair of ears standing over the table's edge. From the street she could hear approaching some sirens now. "Sir, come out with your hands in the air! You are surrounded and have absolutely no chance of escape."

"Oh I know that Detective." Said the hidden warthog. "I'll be right out, I just have to… uuuuurg…" He grunted. "I hate needles."

A syringe flew from behind the table and clinked on the floor close to their paws. Danielle glanced at Peter, confused, his expression was of pure terror. The warthog grunted again, this time pushing the table out of his way. He was on all fours, one of his tusks had gotten lodged into the table. With a twist from his head he released his tusk, breaking part of the table. His eyes were dark, staring straight through them, his hooves scratched the floor.

Peter got the best over her and started shooting, she immediately followed. The warthog then charged the door, the tranquilizer seemingly having no effect. The large boar broke through the doorframe, hitting Peter stomach height. His body spun in the air as the mass of muscle moved past. Peter tried to fall back to his paws, but one of his hind legs ceded, broken.

Peter screamed and Danielle felt something she hadn't felt for the longest time: panic. She squeezed her trigger against the warthog, but only a faint _fssss_ came out of it. _Fuck_. Was all she could think off. The boar charged her now and the best she could do was to dodge away from it. On her clumsy landing she hit the flagpole, knocking the pole and flag mess over herself.

The noise seemingly triggered the boar and it turned its razor sharp tusks towards her once more, charging. It's hooves sounded like thunders on the wooden floor and the beast moved like a train going off rails, all the mass focused on the single objective of moving forward, against her. Danielle had little to no time to do anything, so she picked up one of the flag poles and extended it towards the charging boar, trying to stop, or at least, deter the hog from crushing her against the wall.

The boar hit the tip of the pole and it passed through its body, coming in from under it's neck and coming out through it's last rib bone, stopping only centimeters away from her snout. The boar vomited blood over her and still moved it's hooves, even if slowly, when she let go of the spear.

Danielle stood up and tried to clean the blood from her fur, from her face, from her paws to no use, only being able to smudge herself more in the thick substance. She sat close to Peter, her eyes wide open, and tried to calm him down, but who would calm herself?

That was when the other officers charged in.


	12. Cry wolf

_Beep beep beep beep beep_

She was so used to the sound that it startled her when she noticed it. Danielle sat on a clean steel chair in a clean white room, she supported her head on her clean paws, both held together with her clean elbows supported by her clean knees.

She looked to her right, Peter's breath was very slow, the anesthesia still haven't lost its effect and he seemed calm. His left leg hung from two hoops that came from the ceiling, plaster hid his stitches, and metal rods proctored from his leg, holding his fractured bones together.

Danielle sighed, the memory sent shivers down her spine. It brought the smell of blood, the sounds of the boars life slipping away. How long did she try to clean her paws? She thought that her fur would get bleached from so much soap, alcohol and water, but no. The gray still was the same. Her claws, her fur, her appearance, nothing changed.

But her mind had changed. Something tore with the last heartbeat of that crazed boar. She knew that she had no choice, she was in danger, Peter was in danger, hell, it was her duty. But she did take a life. She would go under investigation, could get suspended and boy, oh boy, that would spark a fire or two with the whole prey and predator thing.

"Think of the head lines: wolf goes medieval on drugged boar." She talked to herself, smiling. Danielle glanced around the empty room, just the _beep beep beep beep_ keeping her company, she sighed once again and got up, stretching her back. Pops sounded as each of her vertebrae got into their right place, a subtle pleasure to her not-that-old bones.

She headed for the door and glanced one last time at her sleeping friend before exiting the small hospital room. Outside the movement was intense, Danielle nodded to one of the Officers guarding the door, the gazelle nodded back at her. She smelled the air. _Fear_.

She walked out of the hospital, she needed both air and a smoke. The noon sun scorched the street, bustling with life and movement. She inhaled the warm air and leaned against a waist high grid by a stair.

Danielle looked up to the bright blue sky, only a few clouds passing by. She patted her shirt's pocket, only to find it empty. _Dammit… It was in my shirt…_ She felt the texture of the cheap shirt one of the other Officers had borrowed her on the scene, the loose white fabric hung from her shoulders, barely touching her fur. _Tigers are bigger than they look…_

She sighed and looked around, trying to find a place to get a new pack, but a curious sight caught her attention: a hay colored fennec sat at the end of the short flight of stairs, he wore a dark gray suit, small enough to fit a doll.

Her first reaction was of aversion, but her curiosity got the better of her. "Hey, you are Wilde's fennec." She greeted him, walking down the stairs.

The fennec looked up at her, his eyes seemed very tired. "Hey wolf..." He blinked and straightened his back, his expression had shifted. "Are you ok?"

That caught her off guard. She opened her mouth to speak, but a lump formed in her throat. "No." Was all she could force herself to speak, looking away from the fennec's small yellow eyes.

"Nick…" Started the small fox, seemingly trying to cherry pick the right words. "Told me that the jaguar that was with you got hurt this morning. He was your partner, right?"

Danielle glanced down at the yellow eyes that peered up to her, there was compassion in there. She nodded and closed her eyes, they would burn less this way.

"Was it bad?" Asked the voice behind her personal red curtain.

"Yeah." She answered.

"Will he…" The small fox took a deep breath. Danielle opened her eyes to see him getting himself up. He looked at her again and patted his small gray pants. "Will you be ok?" He asked.

"I killed someone." Those words weighed a ton for her. She pressed her eyes with her right paw paw pads, she would not cry in public like that.

She expected anything from that small fox: repulsion, fear, snark. But a short half smile formed on his face.

"Things got very bad there, right?" He asked, tenderly.

Her eyes burned again, she sat down on one of the stair steps, the weight of the world on her shoulders. Her mind raced, she pictured her father seeing her bloodied face on the news, her aunt messing the threads of her knitting when the death was announced, she imagined Rosa calling and saying that she would not come by the next day. Not to the house of a murderer. Danielle trembled, she crossed her arms over her knees and hid her snout behind them.

The fennec sat beside her and watched as the cars went by. After a minute passed he broke the silence. "Name's Finnick."

"Danielle." She mumbled.

"Had you any choice?" He asked, bluntly.

She shook her head, tears rolled down her eyes, she could not hold it in anymore. _Peter knows… what else could I've done? I… he… could've…_ her mind went back to a few months prior. The long barrel of a rifle aimed at her face, an explosion sounded and, that time, Peter had saved her, the bullet landing only centimeters away from her head, but he had spared the culprit, only sinking his claws under his skin and fur. _And yet…_

"Look mut… People… do bad things." She felt Finnick's small paw press her shoulder, his paw pads were warm and his claws were dull. "I know a whole bunch of those… I did my fair share of stupid shit in my own time…"

Danielle took her snout out of hiding, only enough to stare at him, with her reddened accusatory eyes.

"Hey, don't look at me like that. See Danielle… Sooner or later things get to us, we never get away. I paid my… fair share, when I got out." Finnick looked away from her, towards the street. Danielle lifted her eyes, searching for what he gazed upon. _A fruit stand._ She glanced back at him, but he was lost in thought. "Mike... is my family. The little I have left."

Danielle supported her chin over her crossed arms, the seller in the fruit stand was piling apples. One over the other, each apple supported the one above it. Each was different: red, green, fuji, gala and golden.

"Peter… is my pack." It was the first time that she had acknowledged it, not even to someone else, but to herself.

The little fox looked at her, a puzzled look on his face. Danielled rolled her eyes, she shouldn't have expected him to understand. "We wolves have… this thing. We are pack animals, we _have_ to have groups, that's how we socialize, we protect each other."

"But… he is no wolf." The fennec blinked and lifted his hands defensively, shaking his head. "I didn't mean that…"

"You did." She understood his point of view, it didn't matter. "And yes, he is no wolf. But he is more pack to me than… heck… than my whole family. I can count on him, we protect each other." It felt good to open up to someone, to finally say at least a bit of what she felt. "He is better than most wolves that I know anyway…"

"You mean, you and he…" Finnick seemed to be trying to be tactfully, he was not very good at that.

"No, you dumbass. He is like a brother of sorts, but one that doesn't freaking hate me and that I don't despise. He is family." Danielle turned her body and punched the safety grid, a low ring sound echoed through the steel pipes. "For Fenris fucking sake…"

Finnick smiled at her and she felt her ears turn backwards instinctively. The knot in her throat was back, the tears rolled down her face. "Why does everything have to be so fucking…" She mumbled, curling her body and hiding her snout behind her arms once again.

She felt the warm arms of that small fox hug her head. _God dammit Danielle, get a hold of yourself._ She thought, but she couldn't hold it in anymore.

They stayed that way for some time, how long she couldn't know. After a while the tears dried, her heart felt calmer and the sound of cars, passerby's and the world came back to her. Danielle took a deep breath and lifted her head. The fennec let go of her and patted her back.

"There, there... I've got to get back to Mike, will you be okay?" He asked.

"Yeah… I… I will." Danielle rubbed her eyes and smiled to him. "You… thanks."

"No problem kiddo." Said Finnick, waving goodbye.

She saw the fox vanish behind the white doors of the hospital. _Well, I gotta get back too._ Danielle got herself up and looked around. An idea popped up in her head.

She crossed the street and bought a bag of apples, different shapes, colors and sizes. With a smile on her face she pushed open the doors of the hospital, walking back in.


	13. See you, space cowboy!

Well, that's it!

Hope you all enjoyed the misadventures of Danielle and Peter.

This was my last story, at least untill Zoot 2 comes around and

stirs my creativity once more, 'till there take care and have fun!

And again, I would like to thank Terminarch, Karteufel and gradius01

the all the help on this journey, you guys helped me get all this done

and taught me a lot on the way here!


End file.
